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UNIVERSAL  CLASSICS 
LIBRARY 


3;  A  CGXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO) 


ILLV5TRATED 
¥TTH  PHOTOGRAWRE5  ON 
JAPAN  VELLVAV  ETCHINGS 
HAND  PAINTED  INDIA-PLATE 
REPRODVCTIONS.AND 
FULL  PAGE  PORTRAITS 
OFAVTHORS. 


WASHINGTON  tr  LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,   1901, 

BY 

M.  WALTER    DUNNE, 
PUBLISHER 


LEI   ERSTD1IISSON 


BY  THE 

EARL  OF   CHESTERFIELD 


on  the  Fine  Art  of  becoming  a 
MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 


and  a 
GENTLEMAN 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOLUME    I 


WITH  TOPICAL   HEADINGS  AND 
A  SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION    BY 


OLIVER  H.  G.  LEIGH 


M.WALTER  DUNME,PUBLISHER 
WASHINGTON  &  LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,   1901, 

BY 

M.  WALTER    DUNNE, 

PUBLISHER 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


VOLUME  I 

DR.  JOHNSON  IN  THE  ANTE-ROOM  OF  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

MANSION Frontispiece 

Photogravure  after  the  painting  by  E.  M.  Ward,  R.A. 

AN  AFFAIR  OF  HONOR 239 

Photogravure  after  the  original  painting  by  J.  M  unsch 

tf 


(vii) 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION 


THE  proud  Lord  Chesterfield  would  have  turned  in  his 
grave  had  he  known  that  he  was  to  go  down  to  pos- 
terity as  a  teacher  and  preacher  of  the  gospel  of — 
not  grace,  but — *  the  graces,  the  graces,  the  graces. * 
Natural  gifts,  social  status,  open  opportunities,  and  his 
ambition,  all  conspired  to  destine  him  for  high  states- 
manship. If  anything  was  lacking  in  his  qualifications, 
he  had  the  pluck  and  good  sense  to  work  hard  and  per- 
sistently until  the  deficiency  was  made  up.  Something 
remained  lacking,  and  not  all  his  consummate  mastery  of 
arts  could  conceal  that  conspicuous  want, —  the  want  of 
heart. 

Teacher  and  preacher  he  assuredly  is,  and  long  will  be, 
yet  no  thanks  are  his  due  from  a  posterity  of  the  common 
people  whom  he  so  sublimely  despised.  His  pious  mission 
was  not  to  raise  the  level  of  the  multitude,  but  to  lift  a 
single  individual  upon  a  pedestal  so  high  that  his  lowly 
origin  should  not  betray  itself.  That  individual  was  his, 
Lord  Chesterfield's,  illegitimate  son,  whose  inferior  blood 
should  be  given  the  true  blue  hue  by  concentrating  upon 
him  all  the  externals  of  aristocratic  education. 

Never  had  pupil  so  devoted,  persistent,  lavish,  and  bril- 
liant a  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend,  for  the  parental  rela- 
tion was  shrewdly  merged  in  these.  Never  were  devotion 
and  uphill  struggle  against  doubts  of  success  more  bitterly 
repaid,  Philip  Stanhope  was  born  in  1732,  when  his 
father  was  thirty-eight.  He  absorbed  readily  enough  the 
solids  of  the  ideal  education  supplied  him,  but,  by  perver- 
sity of  fate,  he  cared  not  a  fig  for  <(the  graces,  the  graces, 
the  graces,*  which  his  father  so  wisely  deemed  by  far  the 
superior  qualities  to  be  cultivated  by  the  budding  courtier 
and  statesman.  A  few  years  of  minor  services  to  his  coun- 
try were  rendered,  though  Chesterfield  was  breaking  his 


x  CHESTERFIELD'S   LETTERS 

substitute  for  a  heart  because  his  son  could  not  or  would 
not  play  the  superfine  gentleman  on  the  paternal  model, 
and  then  came  the  news  of  his  death,  when  only  thirty- 
six.  What  was  a  still  greater  shock  to  the  lordly  father, 
now  deaf,  gouty,  fretful,  and  at  outs  with  the  world,  his 
informant  reported  that  she  had  been  secretly  married  for 
several  years  to  Young  Hopeful,  and  was  left  penniless 
with  two  boys.  Lord  Chesterfield  was  above  all  things  a 
practical  philosopher,  as  hard  and  as  exquisitely  rounded 
and  polished  as  a  granite  column.  He  accepted  the  van- 
ishing of  his  lifelong  dream  with  the  admirable  stolidity 
of  a  fatalist,  and  in  those  last  days  of  his  radically  arti- 
ficial life  he  disclosed  a  welcome  tenderness,  a  touch  of 
the  divine,  none  the  less  so  for  being  common  duty,  shown 
in  the  few  brief  letters  to  his  son's  widow  and  to  (<  our 
boys."  This,  and  his  enviable  gift  of  being  able  to  view 
the  downs  as  well  as  the  ups  of  life  in  the  consoling 
humorous  light,  must  modify  the  sterner  judgment  so  easily 
passed  upon  his  characteristic  inculcation,  if  not  practice, 
of  heart  less  ness. 

The  thirteenth-century  mother  church  in  the  town  from 
which  Lord  Chesterfield's  title  came  has  a  peculiar  steeple, 
graceful  in  its  lines,  but  it  points  askew,  from  whatever 
quarter  it  is  seen.  The  writer  of  these  Letters,  which  he 
never  dreamed  would  be  published,  is  the  best  self -portrayed 
Gentleman  in  literature.  In  everything  he  was  naturally 
a  stylist,  perfected  by  assiduous  art,  yet  the  graceful  steeple 
is  somehow  warped  out  of  the  beauty  of  the  perpendicular. 
His  ideal  Gentleman  is  the  frigid  product  of  a  rigid 
mechanical  drill,  with  the  mien  of  a  posture  master,  the 
skin-deep  graciousness  of  a  French  Martchal,  the  calculat- 
ing adventurer  who  cuts  unpretentious  worthies  to  toady 
to  society  magnates,  who  affects  the  supercilious  air  of  a 
•hallow  dandy  and  cherishes  the  heart  of  a  frog.  True, 
he  repeatedly  insists  on  the  obligation  of  truthfulness  in 
all  things,  and  of  honor  in  dealing  with  the  world.  His 
Gentleman  may,  nay,  he  must,  sail  with  the  stream,  gamble 
in  moderation  if  it  is  the  fashion,  must  stoop  to  wear 
ridiculous  clothes  and  ornaments  if  they  are  the  mode, 
though  despising  his  weakness  all  to  himself,  and  no  true 
Gentleman  could  afford  to  keep  out  of  the  little  gallantries 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION  xi 

which  so  effectively  advertised  him  as  a  man  of  spirit  and 
charm.  Those  repeated  injunctions  of  honor  are  to  be  the 
rule,  subject  to  these  exceptions,  which  transcend  the  com- 
mon proprieties  when  the  subject  is  the  rising  young  gentle- 
man of  the  period  and  his  goal  social  success.  If  an 
undercurrent  of  shady  morality  is  traceable  in  this  Chester- 
fieldian  philosophy  it  must,  of  course,  be  explained  away  by 
the  less  perfect  moral  standard  of  his  period  as  compared 
with  that  of  our  day.  Whether  this  holds  strictly  true  of 
men  may  be  open  to  discussion,  but  his  lordship's  worldly 
instructions  as  to  the  utility  of  women  as  stepping-stones 
to  favor  in  high  places  are  equally  at  variance  with  the 
principles  he  so  impressively  inculcates  and  with  modern 
conceptions  of  social  honor.  The  externals  of  good  breed- 
ing cannot  be  over-estimated,  if  honestly  come  by,  nor  is 
it  necessary  to  examine  too  deeply  into  the  prime  motives 
of  those  who  urge  them  upon  a  generation  in  whose  eyes 
matter  is  more  important  than  manner.  Superficial  refine- 
ment is  better  than  none,  but  the  Chesterfield  pulpit  cannot 
afford  to  shirk  the  duty  of  proclaiming  loud  and  far  that 
the  only  courtesy  worthy  of  respect  is  that  politesse  de 
cceur,  the  politeness  of  the  heart,  which  finds  expression  in 
consideration  for  others  as  the  ruling  principle  of  conduct. 
This  militates  to  some  extent  against  the  assumption  of  fine 
airs  without  the  backing  of  fine  behavior,  and  if  it  tends 
to  discourage  the  effort  to  use  others  for  selfish  ends,  it 
nevertheless  pays  better  in  the  long  run. 

Chesterfield's  frankness  in  so  many  confessions  of  sharp 
practice  almost  merits  his  canonization  as  a  minor  saint  of 
society.  Dr.  Johnson  has  indeed  placed  him  on  a  Simeon 
Stylites  pillar,  an  immortality  of  penance  from  which  no 
good  member  of  the  writers'  guild  is  likely  to  pray  his 
deliverance.  He  commends  the  fine  art  and  high  science 
of  dissimulation  with  the  gusto  of  an  apostle  and  the 
authority  of  an  expert.  Dissimulate,  but  do  not  simulate, 
disguise  your  real  sentiments,  but  do  not  falsify  them.  Go 
through  the  world  with  your  eyes  and  ears  open  and  mouth 
mostly  shut.  When  new  or  stale  gossip  is  brought  to  you, 
never  let  on  that  you  know  it  already,  nor  that  it  really 
interests  you.  The  reading  of  these  Letters  is  better  than 
hearing  the  average  comedy,  in  which  the  wit  of  a  single 


xii  CHESTERFIELD'S   LETTERS 

sentence  of  Chesterfield  suffices  to  carry  an  act.  His  man- 
of-the- world  philosophy  is  as  old  as  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon, 
but  will  always  be  fresh  and  true,  and  enjoyable  at  any  age, 
thanks  to  his  pithy  expression,  his  unfailing  common  sense, 
his  sparkling  wit  and  charming  humor.  This  latter  gift 
shows  in  the  seeming  lapses  from  his  rigid  rule  requiring 
absolute  elegance  of  expression  at  all  times,  when  an  un- 
expected coarseness,  in  some  provincial  colloquialism,  crops 
out  with  picturesque  force.  The  beau  ideal  of  superfineness 
occasionally  enjoys  the  bliss  of  harking  back  to  mothei 
English. 

Above  all  the  defects  that  can  be  charged  against  the 
Letters,  there  rises  the  substantial  merit  of  an  honest  effort 
to  exalt  the  gentle  in  woman  and  man  above  the  merely 
genteel.  (<  He  that  is  gentil  doeth  gentil  deeds, B  runs  the 
mediaeval  saying  which  marks  the  distinction  between  the 
genuine  and  the  sham  in  behavior.  A  later  age  had  it 
thus:  <(  Handsome  is  as  handsome  does,*  and  in  this  larger 
sense  we  have  agreed  to  accept  the  motto  of  William  of 
Wykeham,  which  declares  that  <(  Manners  maketh  Man.* 


CONTENTS 

VOLUME  I 


Nothing  is  omitted  in  this  edition,  but  as  the  letters  written  to 

his  son  between  the  age  of  five  and  fourteen  years   are  of   minor 

interest,  they  are  given  as  the  Juvenile  Section,  on  page  341. 

LETTER  PAGE 

I  EXCELLENCE  is  WITHIN  MY  GRASP i 

II  TRAVEL  QUESTIONS 4 

III  AFFECTION,    NATURAL  AND  ACQUIRED 5 

IV  WANTON  WASTE  OF  TIME 6 

V  THE  TRUE  PLEASURES   OF  A   GENTLEMAN 7 

VI  BRASS  IN  PLEASURE  MISTAKEN  FOR  GOLD 9 

VII  MAN   OF  THE  WORLD  AND  GENTLEMAN 10 

VIII  THE  AUTHOR  AND  His  WORTHY  WORK 13 

IX  SYSTEM  PAYS 14 

X  TRAVELING  WITH  OPEN   EYES 15 

XI  OLD-FASHIONED  LETTERS 16 

XII  THE  LITTLE  HABITS  THAT  DISTINGUISH  THE  WELL-BRED  17 

XIII  VARYING  COURT  CUSTOMS 19 

XIV  THE  IMPOLICY   OF  LYING 20 

XV  ADAPTING  ONESELF  TO  CIRCUMSTANCES 22 

XVI  ON  CHOOSING  ONE'S   FRIENDS 23 

XVII  SOCIAL  TACTICS 26 

XVIII  ON  KEEPING  WIDE-AWAKE 30 

XIX  EASILY  WASTED  MINUTES 32 

XX  UNDERVALUING  OTHERS'   EXPERIENCE 33 

XXI  TURNING  ODD  MOMENTS  TO  ACCOUNT 36 

XXII  ON   MAKING  ONESELF  FIT  TO  LIVE 38 

XXIII  THE  VALUE  OF  WOMEN'S  SOCIETY 39 

XXIV  THE  ART  OF  USING  PEOPLE 41 

XXV  THE  RUDIMENTS  OF  A  POLITICIAN 43 

XXVI  BREADTH  OF  VIEW  ESSENTIAL  TO   SOUND  JUDGMENT.  ...  44 

XXVII  MAKING  ONESELF  NECESSARY  TO  OTHERS 46 

XXVIII  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  SOCIAL  RELATIONS 47 

XXIX  COMMON-SENSE  CURIOSITY  PROFITABLE 48 

XXX  MODESTY  ENHANCES  INTELLECTUAL  SUPERIORITY 51 

XXXI  IMPORTANCE  OF  STATISTICAL  INFORMATION 54 

XXXII  AN  AMUSING  DICTUM  ON   LAUGHTER 56 

XXXIII  THE  STUDY  OF  MODERN   HISTORY 60 

(xiii) 


XIV 


CHESTERFIELD'S   LETTERS 


LETTER  PAGE 

XXXIV    KEEPING  NOTE-BOOKS  OF  TRAVEL 63 

XXXV    MANNER  OF  SPEECH  AS  IMPORTANT  AS  MATTER 65 

XXXVI     CULTIVATING  AN  OPEN   MIND 66 

XXXVII    ABSURD  OMNISCIENCE  OF   SOME  PEOPLE  67 

XXXVIII    FALLACY   IN   GENERALIZATION 70 

XXXIX    NATURAL  EASE  IN  PRESENCE  OF  THE  GREAT 74 

XL     PRACTICAL  COUNSEL  ON  HARD  WORK 75 

XLI     WATCH  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  THE  WORLD 79 

XLII     PERILS  OF  BAD  ENUNCIATION 82 

XLIII    MANNERS  MUST  ADORN  KNOWLEDGE 85 

XLIV  ATHLETICS  LESS  VALUABLE  THAN  MENTAL  AGILITY.  ...     87 

XLV    SUPERFICIALITY  A  MISTAKE 90 

XLVI    THE  KNIGHTLY  ORDERS  OF  EUROPE 93 

XLVII  ONLY  THE  IGNORANT  AND  THE  WEAK  CAN  BE  IDLE.  ...     97 

XLVIII     COMMON-SENSE  CRITICISM  ON  HISTORY too 

XLIX    A  KEEN   STUDY  OF  THE  FEMININE 104 

L  How  DISTANCE  AND  NUMBERS  AFFECT  OUR  JUDGMENT 

OF   EVENTS 109 

LI     PAY  HOMAGE  TO  ALL  THE  GRACES in 

LII    Do  AS  You  WOULD  BE  DONE  BY 115 

LIII    THE  ESSENTIALS  OF  GOOD  COMPANY 121 

LIV    THE  FINE  ART  OF  GOOD   TALKING 126 

LV    THE  DIPLOMACY  OF  SOCIAL  INTERCOURSE 131 

LVI  SECRET  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  MARLBOROUGH'S  POWER.  . . .  136 

LVII     DIG  DEEP  IN  THE  MINE  OF   KNOWLEDGE 141 

LVIII    SOUND  ADVICE  TO  COLLECTORS   OF  BOOKS 142 

LIX    BOOKS  IN  THE  MORNING,  SOCIETY  AT  NIGHT 144 

LX    TAKE  PRIDE  IN   LITTLE   PERFECTIONS 147 

LXI     THE  GOLDEN  MEAN  IN  DRESSING  WELL 150 

LXII    THE  FOOL  AND   His  MONEY 153 

LXIII     LOOKING  AT  WITHOUT  SEEING  INTO 157 

LXIV    THE  EASY  ILLUSIONS  OF  EARLY   PREJUDICE 158 

LXV  THREEFOLD   DIVISION    OF  THE   DAY,    STUDY,   CONVER- 
SATION,  ENTERTAINMENT 163 

LXVI    THE  CRITICAL  YEAR  IN  A  YOUNG  MAN'S   LIFE 165 

LXVII  KNOWLEDGE  AND     MANNERS     DO     NOT     ALWAYS     GO 

TOGETHER 168 

LXVIII  CURIOUS   CHESTERFIELDIAN   DELUSION   ON  THE  UNGEN- 

TLEMANLINESS    OF    BEING    MUSICAL 170 

LXIX  PLEASURE  HEIGHTENED  BY  A  PRELUDE  OF  HARD  WORK  172 

LXX  THE  VULGARITY  OF  «  PAINTING  THE  TOWN  REDW  AS  A 

SUPPOSED  «GOOD  TIME» 174 

LXXI  THE  SCIENTIFIC  USE  OF  FLATTERY  AND  DISSIMULATION  179 

LXXII     PICKING  UP  ODDS  AND  ENDS  OF  KNOWLEDGE 184 

LXXIII     INSIGHT  WHEN  VIEWING  WORKS  OF  ART 185 

LXXIV     DIAMONDS  AND   UNPOLISHED  WEARERS  OF  THEM 187 


CONTENTS  xv 

LETTER  PAO» 

LXXV    IDLENESS  THE  REFUGE  OF  WEAK  MINDS 190 

LXXVI    OVER-BATHING  AND  RHEUMATISM 193 

LXXVII    DRAWING  THE  LINK  BETWEEN  PLEASURE  AND  VICE.  195 

LXXVIII    ON  MAINTAINING  ONE'S  PROPER  DIGNITY 197 

LXXIX    DEFTLY  HANDLE   KNAVES  AND  FOOLS  200 

LXXX    How  TO  TREAT  OLD  PRETENDERS  AND  OTHERS 203 

LXXXI    CHESTERFIELD  PORTRAYS  HIMSELF,  AND  THE  FOOL  OF 

FASHION 206 

LXXXII    THE  OFFENSIVENESS  OF  CARELESSNESS 211 

LXXXIII    SOME  EAR-MARKS  OF   ESSENTIAL  VULGARITY 217 

LXXXIV    THE   POLISHING  OF  AN  EDUCATED  MAN 220 

LXXXV    THE  TRUE  UNDERSTANDING  OF  CAPITAL  CITIES 224 

LXXXVI    AIM  HIGH,  YOU  SHOOT  THE  HIGHER  FOR  IT 227 

LXXXVII    ONE  ADVANTAGE  OF  A  SECOND   LANGUAGE 230 

LXXXVIII    HIGH  COURTESY  NEVER  OUT  OF  PLACE 232 

LXXXIX    THE  FINISHING  TOUCHES  WHICH  MAKE  GOOD  MANNERS  237 

XC    THE  ART  OF  WINNING  GOODWILL 239 

XCI    STYLE;  THE  STAMP  OF  A  WELL-DRESSED   BODY  AND 

MIND 244 

XCII    THE  WORLD  JUDGES  FIRST  BY   EXTERNALS 248 

XCIII    THE  DELUSIVE  CHARM  AND  POSSIBLE   POWER  OF  AC- 
QUIRED  ELOQUENCE 252 

XCIV    APPEAL    FIRST   TO    EYES  AND    EARS,   THEN  TO  THE 

JUDGMENT 256 

XCV    THE  ARDENT  CHARACTER  OF  LORD   BOLINGBROKE.  . . .  258 

XCVI    WHEN  ABROAD  BE  ABSORBED  BY  NATIVE  WAYS  263 

XCVII    THE    COMPOSITE  ANIMAL,    MAN,    AND    His   SIMPLER 

HELP-MATE 265 

XCVIII    THE  GOOD  FELLOW  BETTER  LOVED  THAN  THE  GOOD 

OR  GREAT  MAN 269 

XCIX    WORLDLY  WISDOM  MORE   PROFITABLE  THAN  KNOWL- 
EDGE    271 

C     THE  TRUE  RELIGIOUSNESS   OF  RECTITUDE  IN  DAILY 

LIFE 275 

CI    WOMEN  OF  THE  WORLD,  THEIR  USEFULNESS  IF  DELI- 
CATELY MANIPULATED 280 

CII    THE  SUPERIOR  ADVANTAGE  OF  THE  LESSER  TALENTS.  284 

CHI    THE  GRACES  THAT  WOMEN  LIKE  IN  MEN 286 

CIV    WORTHLESS  WHIPT-CREAM  LITERATURE 289 

CV    FALSE  STANDARDS  AND  FALSE  TASTES  IN  READING.  .  293 
CVI    THE    DIPLOMATIC    COURTIER    OF    GREAT    LADIES   OF 

THE  COURT 296 

CVII    INTELLECTUAL    CANNIBALISM,    DINE   THE    WISE   AND 

DINE  ON  THEM 298 

CVIII     ODIOUS   MANNERS  THAT   POSE  AS  ODD  WAYS 301 

CIX    COLD  FORMALITY  NOT  TRUE  COURTESY 303 


XVI 


CHESTERFIELD'S    LETTERS 


CX    THE  DEXTEROUS  METHOD  WITH  ADVENTURES 305 

CXI     THE  POLICY   OF  DISCREET  RESERVE 309 

CXII    WOMEN  FAVOR  THE  MAN  MOST   PRAISED  BY  MEN 311 

CXIII    CHATTERING  VANITY   DEFEATS   ITS  OWN  ENDS 314 

CXIV    WINNING  WAYS  MAKE   SOCIAL  CONQUESTS 317 

CXV    THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  PUSH 321 

CXVI    THE  COURT  CLASS  IN  THE  SCHOOL  OF  THE  WORLD...  324 

CXVII    CLEAR  SPEAKING  STRENGTHENS  PLAIN  SPEECH 328 

CXVIII    ADAPTATION  TO  ONE'S   SURROUNDINGS 333 

CXIX    ALL  THE  READING  THAT  A  WOMAN  NEEDS 335 

CXX    SELF-CONFIDENCE  VEILED  BY  SEEMING  MODESTY 339 

CXXI     THE  PERILS  AND  LIMITS  OF  SOWING  WILD  OATS 343 

CXXII    TRUE  PLEASURE  ONLY  WHEN  ENJOYED  WITH  DECENCY 

AND   DIGNITY 347 

CXXIII    SOME  TRITE  REMINDERS  NOT  YET  OBSOLETE 349 

CXXIV    THE    SCHOOLMASTER'S    CRIME,    TOLERATION    OF   BAD 

SPELLING 354 

CXXV    ON   THE   SILLY   APING   OF  ALIEN    FADS   IN    PHRASES 

AND  ACCENT 357 

CXXVI    IN  MATTERS  GREAT  AND  SMALL,  AIM  TO  BE  GRACIOUS  361 

CXXVII    PARISIAN  POLISH  FOR  THE  GENTLEMAN  OF   QUALITY.  .  364 

CXXVIII    THE  GIFT  OF  SAYING  DISAGREEABLE  THINGS  AGREEABLY  367 

CXXIX    MAKE  REASONABLE  HASTE  BUT  NEVER  HURRY 373 

CXXX    THE  BALANCE   BETWEEN   OVER-ASSURANCE  AND   DIF- 
FIDENCE    376 

CXXXI    IN  EVERY  ACT,  STYLE  TELLS 379 

CXXXII    DOCTOR  JOHNSON,  URSA  MAJOR,  AS  MY  LORD 

CHESTERFIELD   SAW   HIM 383 

CXXXIII    GENTLE  IN  MANNER,  STRONG  IN  PURPOSE 387 

CXXXIV    THE  DEMEANOR  OF  A  GENTLEMAN 390 

CXXXV    How  CHESTERFIELD  PERSUADED  PARLIAMENT  TO 

REFORM  THE  CALENDAR 393 

CXXXVI    THE  ART  AND  SCIENCE  OF  HAPPY   SMALL-TALK 397 

CXXXVII    ON  WRIGGLING  INTO  FAVOR,  PARTICULARLY  WITH 

IMPORTANT  MEN 400 

CXXXVIII    MORALS  OF  THE  PERIOD 403 

CXXXIX    To  TALK  ONE'S  BEST,  WHATEVER  THE  TOPIC 405 


LETTER   I 

BATH,  October  9,  O.  S.  1746. 

DEAR  BOY  :  Your  distresses  in  your  journey  from  Hei- 
delberg to  Schaffhausen,  your  lying  upon  straw,  your 
black  bread,  and  your  broken  berline,  are  proper  sea- 
sonings for  the  greater  fatigues  and  distresses  which  you 
must  expect  in  the  course  of  your  travels  ;  and,  if  one  had  a 
mind  to  moralize,  one  might  call  them  the  samples  of  the  acci- 
dents, rubs,  and  difficulties,  which  every  man  meets  with  in 
his  journey  through  life.  In  this  journey,  the  understanding 
is  the  voiture  that  must  carry  you  through ;  and  in  proportion 
as  that  is  stronger  or  weaker,  more  or  less  in  repair,  your 
journey  will  be  better  or  worse ;  though  at  best  you  will  now 
and  then  find  some  bad  roads,  and  some  bad  inns.  Take  care, 
therefore,  to  keep  that  necessary  voiture  in  perfect  good  re- 
pair; examine,  improve,  and  strengthen  it  every  day:  it  is  in 
the  power,  and  ought  to  be  the  care,  of  every  man  to  do  it ;  he 
that  neglects  it,  deserves  to  feel,  and  certainly  will  feel,  the 
fatal  effects  of  that  negligence. 

A  propos  of  negligence :  I  must  say  something  to  you  upon 
that  subject.  You  know  I  have  often  told  you,  that  my  af- 
fection for  you  was  not  a  weak,  womanish  one ;  and,  far  from 
blinding  me,  it  makes  me  but  more  quicksighted  as  to  your 
faults ;  those  it  is  not  only  my  right,  but  my  duty  to  tell  you 
of ;  and  it  is  your  duty  and  your  interest  to  correct  them.  In 
the  strict  scrutiny  which  I  have  made  into  you,  I  have  (thank 
God)  hitherto  not  discovered  any  vice  of  the  heart,  or  any  pe- 
culiar weakness  of  the  head:  but  I  have  discovered  laziness, 
inattention,  and  indifference ;  faults  which  are  only  pardon- 
able in  old  men,  who,  in  the  decline  of  life,  when  health  and 
spirits  fail,  have  a  kind  of  claim  to  that  sort  of  tranquillity. 
But  a  young  man  should  be  ambitious  to  shine,  and  excel; 
alert,  active,  and  indefatigable  in  the  means  of  doing  it ;  and, 
like  Caesar,  Nil  actum  reputans,  si  quid  superesset  agendum. 
You  seem  to  want  that  vivida  vis  animi,  which  spurs  and 
i  (O 


2  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

excites  most  young  men  to  please,  to  shine,  to  excel.  With- 
out the  desire  and  the  pains  necessary  to  be  considerable,  de- 
pend upon  it,  you  never  can  be  so;  as,  without  the  desire  and 
attention  necessary  to  please,  you  never  can  please.  Nullum 
numen  abest,  si  sit  prudentia,  is  unquestionably  true,  with 
regard  to  everything  except  poetry ;  and  I  am  very  sure 
that  any  man  of  common  understanding  may,  by  proper 
culture,  care,  attention,  and  labor,  make  himself  whatever 
he  pleases,  except  a  good  poet.  Your  destination  is  the 
great  and  busy  world ;  your  immediate  object  is  the  affairs, 
the  interests,  and  the  history,  the  constitutions,  the  customs, 
and  the  manners  of  the  several  parts  of  Europe.  In  this, 
any  man  of  common  sense  may,  by  common  application,  be  sure 
to  excel.  Ancient  and  modern  history  are,  by  attention, 
easily  attainable.  Geography  and  chronology  the  same, 
none  of  them  requiring  any  uncommon  share  of  genius  or 
invention.  Speaking  and  Writing,  clearly,  correctly,  and 
with  ease  and  grace,  are  certainly  to  be  acquired,  by  read- 
ing the  best  authors  with  care,  and  by  attention  to  the  best 
living  models.  These  are  the  qualifications  more  particularly 
necessary  for  you,  in  your  department,  which  you  may  be 
possessed  of,  if  you  please ;  and  which,  I  tell  you  fairly,  I 
shall  be  very  angry  at  you,  if  you  are  not ;  because,  as 
you  have  the  means  in  your  hands,  it  will  be  your  own  fault 
only. 

If  care  and  application  are  necessary  to  the  acquiring  of 
those  qualifications,  without  which  you  can  never  be  con- 
siderable, nor  make  a  figure  in  the  world,  they  are  not  less 
necessary  with  regard  to  the  lesser  accomplishments,  which 
are  requisite  to  make  you  agreeable  and  pleasing  in  society. 
In  truth,  whatever  is  worth  doing  at  all,  is  worth  doing 
well ;  and  nothing  can  be  done  well  without  attention :  I 
therefore  carry  the  necessity  of  attention  down  to  the  low- 
est things,  even  to  dancing  and  dress.  Custom  has  made 
dancing  sometimes  necessary  for  a  young  man ;  therefore 
mind  it  while  you  learn  it  that  you  may  learn  to  do  it  well, 
and  not  be  ridiculous,  though  in  a  ridiculous  act.  Dress  is 
of  the  same  nature ;  you  must  dress ;  therefore  attend  to  it ; 
not  in  order  to  rival  or  to  excel  a  fop  in  it,  but  in  order 
to  avoid  singularity,  and  consequently  ridicule.  Take  great 
care  always  to  be  dressed  like  the  reasonable  people  of  your 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  3 

own  age,  in  the  place  where  you  are  ;  whose  dress  is  never 
spoken  of  one  way  or  another,  as  either  too  negligent  or 
too  much  studied. 

What  is  commonly  called  an  absent  man,  is  commonly 
either  a  very  weak,  or  a  very  affected  man ;  but  be  he 
which  he  will,  he  is,  I  am  sure,  a  very  disagreeable  man 
in  company.  He  fails  in  all  the  common  offices  of  civility; 
he  seems  not  to  know  those  people  to-day,  whom  yester- 
day he  appeared  to  live  in  intimacy  with.  He  takes  no 
part  in  the  general  conversation;  but,  on  the  contrary,  breaks 
into  it  from  time  to  time,  with  some  start  of  his  own,  as 
if  he  waked  from  a  dream.  This  (as  I  said  before)  is  a 
sure  indication,  either  of  a  mind  so  weak  that  it  is  not  able 
to  bear  above  one  object  at  a  time ;  or  so  affected,  that  it 
would  be  supposed  to  be  wholly  engrossed  by,  and  directed 
to,  some  very  great  and  important  objects.  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton, Mr.  Locke,  and  (it  may  be)  five  or  six  more,  since  the 
creation  of  the  world,  may  have  had  a  right  to  absence, 
from  that  intense  thought  which  the  things  they  were  in- 
vestigating required.  But  if  a  young  man,  and  a  man  of 
the  world,  who  has  no  such  avocations  to  plead,  will  claim 
and  exercise  that  right  of  absence  in  company,  his  pretended 
right  should,  in  my  mind,  be  turned  into  an  involuntary  ab- 
sence, by  his  perpetual  exclusion  out  of  company.  However 
frivolous  a  company  may  be,  still,  while  you  are  among 
them,  do  not  show  them,  by  your  inattention,  that  you 
think  them  so;  but  rather  take  their  tone,  and  conform  in 
some  degree  to  their  weakness,  instead  of  manifesting  your 
contempt  for  them.  There  is  nothing  that  people  bear  more 
impatiently,  or  forgive  less,  than  contempt ;  and  an  injury 
is  much  sooner  forgotten  than  an  insult.  If,  therefore,  you 
would  rather  please  than  offend,  rather  be  well  than  ill 
spoken  of,  rather  be  loved  than  hated ;  remember  to  have 
that  constant  attention  about  you  which  flatters  every  man's 
little  vanity;  and  the  want  of  which,  by  mortifying  his  pride, 
never  fails  to  excite  his  resentment,  or  at  least  his  ill  will. 
For  instance,  most  people  (I  might  say  all  people)  have 
their  weaknesses;  they  have  their  aversions  and  their  likings, 
to  such  or  such  things;  so  that,  if  you  were  to  laugh  at  a 
man  for  his  aversion  to  a  cat,  or  cheese  (which  are  com- 
mon antipathies),  or,  by  inattention  and  negligence,  to  let 


4  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

them  come  in  his  way,  where  you  could  prevent  it,  he 
would,  in  the  first  case,  think  himself  insulted,  and,  in  the 
second,  slighted,  and  would  remember  both.  Whereas  your 
care  to  procure  for  him  what  he  likes,  and  to  remove  from 
him  what  he  hates,  shows  him  that  he  is  at  least  an  object 
of  your  attention  ;  flatters  his  vanity,  and  makes  him  pos- 
sibly more  your  friend,  than  a  more  important  service  would 
have  done.  With  regard  to  women,  attentions  still  below 
these  are  necessary,  and,  by  the  custom  of  the  world,  in 
some  measure  due,  according  to  the  laws  of  good-breeding. 
My  long  and  frequent  letters,  which  I  send  you,  in  great 
doubt  of  their  success,  put  me  in  mind  of  certain  papers, 
which  you  have  very  lately,  and  I  formerly,  sent  up  to 
kites,  along  the  string,  which  we  called  messengers ;  some 
of  them  the  wind  used  to  blow  away,  others  were  torn  by 
the  string,  and  but  few  of  them  got  up  and  stuck  to  the 
kite.  But  I  will  content  myself  now,  as  I  did  then,  if  some 
of  my  present  messengers  do  but  stick  to  you.  Adieu ! 


LETTER     II 

DEAR  BOY  :  You  are  by  this  time  (I  suppose)  quite  set- 
tled and  at  home  at  Lausanne;  therefore  pray  let  me 
know  how  you  pass  your  time  there,  and  what  your 
studies,  your  amusements,  and  your  acquaintances  are.  I 
take  it  for  granted,  that  you  inform  yourself  daily  of  the 
nature  of  the  government  and  constitution  of  the  Thirteen 
Cantons;  and  as  I  am  ignorant  of  them  myself,  must  ap- 
ply to  you  for  information.  I  know  the  names,  but  I  do  not 
know  the  nature  of  some  of  the  most  considerable  offices  there  ; 
such  as  the  Avoyers,  the  Seizeniers,  the  Banderets,  and  the 
Gros  Sautter.  I  desire,  therefore,  that  you  will  let  me 
know  what  is  the  particular  business,  department,  or  prov- 
ince of  these  several  magistrates.  But  as  I  imagine  that 
there  may  be  some,  though,  I  believe,  no  essential  difference, 
in  the  governments  of  the  several  Cantons,  I  would  not 
give  you  the  trouble  of  informing  yourself  of  each  of  them ; 
but  confine  my  inquiries,  as  you  may  your  informations,  to 
the  Canton  you  reside  in,  that  of  Berne,  which  I  take  to 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  5 

be  the  principal  one.  I  am  not  sure  whether  the  Pays  de 
Vaud,  where  you  are,  being  a  conquered  country,  and  taken 
from  the  Dukes  of  Savoy,  in  the  year  1536,  has  the  same 
share  in  the  government  of  the  Canton,  as  the  German  part 
of  it  has.  Pray  inform  yourself  and  me  about  it. 

I  have  this  moment  received  yours  from  Berne,  of  the  2d 
October,  N.  S.  and  also  one  from  Mr.  Harte,  of  the  same 
date,  under  Mr.  Burnaby's  cover.  I  find  by  the  latter,  and 
indeed  I  thought  so  before,  that  some  of  your  letters  and 
some  of  Mr.  Harte 's  have  not  reached  me.  Wherefore, 
for  the  future,  I  desire,  that  both  he  and  you  will  direct 
your  letters  for  me,  to  be  left  chez  Monsieur  Walters,  Agent 
de  S.  M.  Britannique,  d,  Rotterdam,  who  will  take  care  to 
send  them  to  me  safe.  The  reason  why  you  have  not  re- 
ceived letters  either  from  me  or  from  Grevenkop  was  that 
we  directed  them  to  Lausanne,  where  we  thought  you  long 
ago :  and  we  thought  it  to  no  purpose  to  direct  to  you 
upon  your  ROUTE,  where  it  was  little  likely  that  our  letters 
would  meet  with  you.  But  you  have,  since  your  arrival 
at  Lausanne,  I  believe,  found  letters  enough  from  me ;  and 
it  may  be  more  than  you  have  read,  at  least  with  attention. 

I  am  glad  that  you  like  Switzerland  so  well;  and  am 
impatient  to  hear  how  other  matters  go,  after  your  settle- 
ment at  Lausanne.  God  bless  you! 


LETTER    III 

LONDON,  December  2,  O.  S.   1746. 

DEAR  BOY:    I   have    not,   in  my  present  situation,*  time 
to  write  to  you,  either  so  much  or  so  often  as  I  used, 
while    I    was    in    a  place  of  much   more    leisure    and 
and  profit ;  but  my  affection  for  you  must  not  be  judged  of  by 
the  number  of  my  letters ;  and,  though  the  one  lessens,  the 
other,  I  assure  you,  does  not. 

I  have  just  now  received  your  letter  of  the  35th  past,  N.  S., 
and,  by  the  former  post,  one  from  Mr.  Harte;  with  both 
which  I  am  very  well  pleased:  with  Mr.  Harte's,  for  the 

*His  Lordship  was,  in  the  year  1746,  appointed  one  of  his  Majesty's 
secretaries  of  state. 


6  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

good  account  which  he  gives  me  of  you;  with  yours,  for 
the  good  account  which  you  gave  me  of  what  I  desired  to 
be  informed  of.  Pray  continue  to  give  me  further  informa- 
tion of  the  form  of  government  of  the  country  you  are  now 
in ;  which  I  hope  you  will  know  most  minutely  before  you 
leave  it.  The  inequality  of  the  town  of  Lausanne  seems  to 
be  very  convenient  in  this  cold  weather;  because  going  up 
hill  and  down  will  keep  you  warm.  You  say  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  good  company ;  pray,  are  you  got  into  it  ? 
Have  you  made  acquaintances,  and  with  whom  ?  Let  me 
know  some  of  their  names.  Do  you  learn  German  yet,  to 
read,  write,  and  speak  it? 

Yesterday,  I  saw  a  letter  from  Monsieur  Bochat  to  a 
friend  of  mine ;  which  gave  me  the  greatest  pleasure  that 
I  have  felt  this  great  while ;  because  it  gives  so  very 
good  an  account  of  you.  Among  other  things  which 
Monsieur  Bochat  says  to  your  advantage,  he  mentions  the 
tender  uneasiness  and  concern  that  you  showed  during  my 
illness,  for  which  (though  I  will  say  that  you  owe  it  to 
me)  I  am  obliged  to  you:  sentiments  of  gratitude  not  being 
universal,  nor  even  common.  As  your  affection  for  me  can 
only  proceed  from  your  experience  and  conviction  of  my 
fondness  for  you  (for  to  talk  of  natural  affection  is  talking 
nonsense),  the  only  return  I  desire  is,  what  it  is  chiefly 
your  interest  to  make  me ;  I  mean  your  invariable  practice 
of  virtue,  and  your  indefatigable  pursuit  of  knowledge. 
Adieu!  and  be  persuaded  that  I  shall  love  you  extremely, 
while  you  deserve  it ;  but  not  one  moment  longer. 


LETTER    IV 

LONDON,  December  9,  O.  S.,   1746. 

DEAR  BOY  :    Though  I   have  very  little  time,  and  though 
I    write    by    this    post    to    Mr.    Harte,    yet    I    cannot 
send  a   packet    to    Lausanne  without    a  word  or   two 
to  yourself.     I   thank  you   for  your    letter  of  congratulation 
which  you  wrote  me,  notwithstanding  the  pain  it  gave  you. 
The  accident  that  caused  the  pain  was,    I  presume,    owing 
to    that   degree  of    giddiness,    of    which    I    have    sometimes 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  7 

taken  the  liberty  to  speak  to  you.  The  post  I  am  now  in, 
though  the  object  of  most  people's  views  and  desires,  was 
in  some  degree  inflicted  upon  me ;  and  a  certain  concurrence 
of  circumstances  obliged  me  to  engage  in  it.  But  I  feel 
that  to  go  through  with  it  requires  more  strength  of  body 
and  mind  than  I  have  :  were  you  three  or  four  years  older, 
you  should  share  in  my  trouble,  and  I  would  have  taken 
you  into  my  office ;  but  I  hope  you  will  employ  these  three 
or  four  years  so  well  as  to  make  yourself  capable  of  being 
of  use  to  me,  if  I  should  continue  in  it  so  long.  The  read- 
ing, writing,  and  speaking  the  modern  languages  correctly ; 
the  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nations,  and  the  particular 
constitution  of  the  empire ;  of  history,  geography,  and 
chronology,  are  absolutely  necessary  to  this  business,  for 
which  I  have  always  intended  you.  With  these  qualifications 
you  may  very  possibly  be  my  successor,  though  not  my 
immediate  one. 

I  hope  you  employ  your  whole  time,  which  few  people 
do ;  and  that  you  put  every  moment  to  profit  of  some  kind 
or  other.  I  call  company,  walking,  riding,  etc.,  employing 
one's  time,  and,  upon  proper  occasions,  very  usefully ;  but 
what  I  cannot  forgive  in  anybody  is  sauntering,  and  doing 
nothing  at  all,  with  a  thing  so  precious  as  time,  and  so 
irrecoverable  when  lost. 

Are  you  acquainted  with  any  ladies  at  Lausanne?  and  do 
you  behave  yourself  with  politeness  enough  to  make  them 
desire  your  company? 

I  must  finish  :  God  bless  you ! 


LETTER    V 

LONDON,  February  24,  O.  S.  1747. 

SIR  :     In  order     that    we    may,  reciprocally,    keep   up  our 
French,   which,  for  want  of  practice,  we  might  forget, 
you  will   permit  me  to  have  the  honor  of  assuring  you 
of    my     respects    in     that    language:     and    be    so    good    to 
answer    me    in    the    same.     Not  that    I  am   apprehensive  of 
your   forgetting  to    speak  French :    since    it  is  probable  that 
two-thirds    of    your  daily   prattle    is  in    that    language ;  and 


8  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

because,  if  you  leave  off  writing  French,  you  may  perhaps 
neglect  that  grammatical  purity,  and  accurate  orthography, 
which,  in  other  languages,  you  excel  in;  and  really,  even 
in  French,  it  is  better  to  write  well  than  ill.  However,  as 
this  is  a  language  very  proper  for  sprightly,  gay  subjects-, 
I  shall  conform  to  that,  and  reserve  those  which  are  serious 
for  English.  I  shall  not  therefore  mention  to  you,  at  present, 
your  Greek  or  Latin,  your  study  of  the  Law  of  Nature,  or 
the  Law  of  Nations,  the  Rights  of  People,  or  of  Individ- 
uals ;  but  rather  discuss  the  subject  of  your  Amusements  and 
Pleasures;  for,  to  say  the  truth,  one  must  have  some.  May 
I  be  permitted  to  inquire  of  what  nature  yours  are?  Do 
they  consist  in  little  commercial  play  at  cards  in  good  com- 
pany? are  they  little  agreeable  suppers,  at  which  cheerful- 
ness and  decency  are  united?  or,  do  you  pay  court  to  some 
fair  one,  who  requires  such  attentions  as  may  be  of  use  in 
contributing  to  polish  you?  Make  me  your  confidant  upon 
this  subject;  you  shall  not  find  a  severe  censor:  on  the  con- 
trary, I  wish  to  obtain  the  employment  of  minister  to  your 
pleasures:  I  will  point  them  out,  and  even  contribute  to 
them. 

Many  young  people  adopt  pleasures,  for  which  they  have 
not  the  least  taste,  only  because  they  are  called  by  that  name. 
They  often  mistake  so  totally,  as  to  imagine  that  debauchery 
is  pleasure.  You  must  allow  that  drunkenness,  which  is 
equally  destructive  to  body  and  mind,  is  a  fine  pleasure. 
Gaming,  that  draws  you  into  a  thousand  scrapes,  leaves  you 
penniless,  and  gives  you  the  air  and  manners  of  an  outrage- 
ous madman,  is  another  most  exquisite  pleasure;  is  it  not? 
As  to  running  after  women,  the  consequences  of  that  vice  are 
only  the  loss  of  one's  nose,  the  total  destruction  of  health, 
and.  not  unfrequently,  the  being  run  through  the  body. 

These,  you  see,  are  all  trifles;  yet  this  is  the  catalogue  of 
pleasures  of  most  of  those  young  people,  who  never  reflect- 
ing themselves,  adopt,  indiscriminately,  what  others  choose 
to  call  by  the  seducing  name  of  pleasure.  I  am  thoroughly 
persuaded  you  will  not  fall  into  such  errors ;  and  that,  in 
the  choice  of  your  amusements,  you  will  be  directed  by 
reason,  and  a  discerning  taste.  The  true  pleasures  of  a 
gentleman  are  those  of  the  table,  but  within  the  bound  of 
moderation;  good  company,  that  is  to  say,  people  of  merit; 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  9 

moderate  play,  which  amuses,  without  any  interested  views; 
and  sprightly  gallant  conversations  with  women  of  fashion 
and  sense. 

These  are  the  real  pleasures  of  a  gentleman;  which  occa- 
sion neither  sickness,  shame,  nor  repentance.  Whatever 
exceeds  them,  becomes  low  vice,  brutal  passion,  debauchery, 
and  insanity  of  mind ;  all  of  which,  far  from  giving  satis- 
faction, bring  on  dishonor  and  disgrace.  Adieu. 


LETTER     VI 

LONDON,  March  6,  O.  S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY  :  Whatever  you  do,  will  always  affect  me, 
very  sensibly,  one  way  or  another;  and  I  am  now 
most  agreeably  affected,  by  two  letters,  which  I  have 
lately  seen  from  Lausanne,  upon  your  subject ;  the  one  from 
Madame  St.  Germain,  the  other  from  Monsieur  Pampigny  : 
they  both  give  so  good  an  account  of  you,  that  I  thought 
myself  obliged,  in  justice  both  to  them  and  to  you,  to  let 
you  know  it.  Those  who  deserve  a  good  character,  ought 
to  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  they  have  it,  both 
as  a  reward  and  as  an  encouragement.  They  write,  that 
you  are  not  only  d'Zcrottt,  but  tolerably  well-bred ;  and  that 
the  English  crust  of  awkward  bashfulness,  shyness,  and 
roughness  (of  which,  by  the  bye,  you  had  your  share)  is 
pretty  well  rubbed  off.  I  am  most  heartily  glad  of  it;  for, 
as  I  have  often  told  you,  those  lesser  talents,  of  an  engag- 
ing, insinuating  manner,  an  easy  good-breeding,  a  genteel 
behavior  and  address,  are  of  infinitely  more  advantage  than 
they  are  generally  thought  to  be,  especially  here  in  England. 
Virtue  and  learning,  like  gold,  have  their  intrinsic  value : 
but  if  they  are  not  polished,  they  certainly  lose  a  great  deal 
of  their  luster ;  and  even  polished  brass  will  pass  upon  more 
people  than  rough  gold.  What  a  number  of  sins  does  the 
cheerful,  easy  good-breeding  of  the  French  frequently  cover? 
Many  of  them  want  common  sense,  many  more  common 
learning;  but  in  general,  they  make  up  so  much  by  their 
manner,  for  those  defects,  that  frequently  they  pass  undis- 
covered. I  have  often  said,  and  do  think,  that  a  Frenchman, 


io  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

who,  with  a  fund  of  virtue,  learning  and  good  sense,  has 
the  manners  and  good-breeding  of  his  country,  is  the  per- 
fection of  human  nature.  This  perfection  you  may,  if  you 
please,  and  I  hope  you  will,  arrive  at.  You  know  what 
virtue  is:  you  may  have  it  if  you  will;  it  is  in  every  man's 
power;  and  miserable  is  the  man  who  has  it  not.  Good 
sense  God  has  given  you.  Learning  you  already  possess 
enough  of,  to  have,  in  a  reasonable  time,  all  that  a  man 
need  have.  With  this,  you  are  thrown  out  early  into  the 
world,  where  it  will  be  your  own  fault  if  you  do  not 
acquire  all  the  other  accomplishments  necessary  to  complete 
and  adorn  your  character.  You  will  do  well  to  make  your 
compliments  to  Madame  St.  Germain  and  Monsieur  Pam- 
pigny ;  and  tell  them,  how  sensible  you  are  of  their  partiality 
to  you,  in  the  advantageous  testimonies  which,  you  are 
informed,  they  have  given  of  you  here. 

Adieu.     Continue    to   deserve   such  testimonies;    and  then 
you  will  not  only  deserve,   but  enjoy  my  truest  affection. 


LETTER     VII 

LONDON,  March  27,  O.  S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY:     Pleasure  is  the  rock  which  most  young  peo- 
ple   split  upon  :    they  launch  out  with   crowded    sails 
in  quest  of  it,  but  without  a  compass  to  direct  their 
course,  or  reason  sufficient  to  steer  the  vessel ;    for  want  of 
which,   pain  and  shame,  instead  of  pleasure,  are  the  returns 
of   their    voyage.     Do    not    think    that    I    mean    to    snarl  at 
pleasure,  like  a  Stoic,  or    to  preach    against  it,   like    a  par- 
son; no,  I  mean  to  point  it  out,  and  recommend  it  to  you, 
like  an  Epicurean:    I  wish  you    a  great  deal;    and  my  only 
view  is  to  hinder  you  from  mistaking  it. 

The  character  which  most  young  men  first  aim  at,  is  that 
of  a  man  of  pleasure;  but  they  generally  take  it  upon  trust; 
and  instead  of  consulting  their  own  taste  and  inclinations, 
they  blindly  adopt  whatever  those  with  whom  they  chiefly 
converse,  are  pleased  to  call  by  the  name  of  pleasure ;  and 
a  man  of  pleasure  in  the  vulgar  acceptation  of  that  phrase, 
means  only,  a  beastly  drunkard,  an  abandoned  whoremaster, 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  u 

and  a  profligate  swearer  and  curser.  As  it  may  be  of  use 
to  you,  I  am  not  unwilling,  though  at  the  same  time  ashamed 
to  own,  that  the  vices  of  my  youth  proceeded  much  more 
from  my  silly  resolution  of  being,  what  I  heard  called  a 
man  of  pleasure,  than  from  my  own  inclinations.  I  always 
naturally  hated  drinking ;  and  yet  I  have  often  drunk,  with 
disgust  at  the  time,  attended  by  great  sickness  the  next  day, 
only  because  I  then  considered  drinking  as  a  necessary  qual- 
ification for  a  fine  gentleman,  and  a  man  of  pleasure. 

The  same  as  to  gaming.  I  did  not  want  money,  and 
consequently  had  no  occasion  to  play  for  it ;  but  I  thought 
play  another  necessary  ingredient  in  the  composition  of  a 
man  of  pleasure,  and  accordingly  I  plunged  into  it  without 
desire,  at  first;  sacrificed  a  thousand  real  pleasures  to  it;  and 
made  myself  solidly  uneasy  by  it,  for  thirty  the  best  years 
of  my  life. 

I  was  even  absurd  enough,  for  a  little  while,  to  swear,  by 
way  of  adorning  and  completing  the  shining  character  which 
I  affected ;  but  this  folly  I  soon  laid  aside,  upon  finding 
both  the  guilt  and  the  indecency  of  it. 

Thus  seduced  by  fashion,  and  blindly  adopting  nominal 
pleasures,  I  lost  real  ones ;  and  my  fortune  impaired,  and 
my  constitution  shattered,  are,  I  must  confess,  the  just  pun- 
ishment of  my  errors. 

Take  warning  then  by  them :  choose  your  pleasures  for 
yourself,  and  do  not  let  them  be  imposed  upon  you.  Fol- 
low nature  and  not  fashion :  weigh  the  present  enjoyment  of 
your  pleasures  against  the  necessary  consequences  of  them, 
and  then  let  your  own  common  sense  determine  your  choice. 

Were  I  to  begin  the  world  again,  with  the  experience 
which  I  now  have  of  it,  I  would  lead  a  life  of  real,  not  of 
imaginary  pleasures.  I  would  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the 
table,  and  of  wine;  but  stop  short  of  the  pains  inseparably 
annexed  to  an  excess  of  either.  I  would  not,  at  twenty 
years,  be  a  preaching  missionary  of  abstemiousness  and 
sobriety ;  and  I  should  let  other  people  do  as  they  would, 
without  formally  and  sententiously  rebuking  them  for  it ; 
but  I  would  be  most  firmly  resolved  not  to  destroy  my  own 
faculties  and  constitution ;  in  complaisance  to  those  who 
have  no  regard  to  their  own.  I  would  play  to  give  me 
pleasure,  but  not  to  give  me  pain;  that  is,  I  would  play  for 


12  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

trifles,  in  mixed  companies,  to  amuse  myself,  and  conform 
to  custom;  but  I  would  take  care  not  to  venture  for  sums; 
which,  if  I  won,  I  should  not  be  the  better  for;  but,  if  I 
lost,  should  be  under  a  difficulty  to  pay:  and  when  paid, 
would  oblige  me  to  retrench  in  several  other  articles.  Not 
to  mention  the  quarrels  which  deep  play  commonly  occa- 
sions. 

I  would  pass  some  of  my  time  in  reading,  and  the  rest 
in  the  company  of  people  of  sense  and  learning,  and  chiefly 
those  above  me ;  and  I  would  frequent  the  mixed  companies 
of  men  and  women  of  fashion,  which,  though  often  frivo- 
lous, yet  they  unbend  and  refresh  the  mind,  not  uselessly, 
because  they  certainly  polish  and  soften  the  manners. 

These  would  be  my  pleasures  and  amusements,  if  I  were 
to  live  the  last  thirty  years  over  again;  they  are  rational 
ones ;  and,  moreover,  I  will  tell  you,  they  are  really  the 
fashionable  ones;  for  the  others  are  not,  in  truth,  the  pleas- 
ures of  what  I  call  people  of  fashion,  but  of  those  who 
only  call  themselves  so.  Does  good  company  care  to  have 
a  man  reeling  drunk  among  them  ?  Or  to  see  another  tear- 
ing his  hair,  and  blaspheming,  for  having  lost,  at  play,  more 
than  he  is  able  to  pay?  Or  a  whoremaster  with  half  a 
nose,  and  crippled  by  coarse  and  infamous  debauchery? 
No ;  those  who  practice,  and  much  more  those  who  brag  of 
them,  make  no  part  of  good  company;  and  are  most  un- 
willingly, if  ever,  admitted  into  it.  A  real  man  of  fashion 
and  pleasures  observes  decency :  at  least  neither  borrows  nor 
affects  vices :  and  if  he  unfortunately  has  any,  he  gratifies 
them  with  choice,  delicacy,  and  secrecy. 

I  have  not  mentioned  the  pleasures  of  the  mind  (which 
are  the  solid  and  permanent  ones),  because  they  do  not 
come  under  the  head  of  what  people  commonly  call  pleas- 
ures ;  which  they  seem  to  confine  to  the  senses.  The 
pleasure  of  ^virtue,  of  charity,  and  of  learning  is  true  and 
lasting  pleasure;  with  which  I  hope  you  will  be  well  and 
long  acquainted.  Adieu! 


LETTERS   TO   HIS  SON  13 


LETTER  VIII 

LONDON,   April  3,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY:  If  I  am  rightly  informed,  I  am  now  writ- 
ing to  a  fine  gentleman,  in  a  scarlet  coat  laced  with 
gold,  a  brocade  waistcoat,  and  all  other  suitable  or- 
naments. The  natural  partiality  of  every  author  for  his 
own  works  makes  me  very  glad  to  hear  that  Mr.  Harte 
has  thought  this  last  edition  of  mine  worth  so  fine  a  bind- 
ing; and,  as  he  has  bound  it  in  red,  and  gilt  it  upon  the 
back,  I  hope  he  will  take  care  that  it  shall  be  LETTERED 
too.  A  showish  binding  attracts  the  eyes,  and  engages  the 
attention  of  everybody ;  but  with  this  difference,  that  women, 
and  men  who  are  like  women,  mind  the  binding  more  than 
the  book ;  whereas  men  of  sense  and  learning  immediately 
examine  the  inside;  and  if  they  find  that  it  does  not  answer 
the  finery  on  the  outside,  they  throw  it  by  with  the  greater 
indignation  and  contempt.  I  hope  that,  when  this  edition 
of  my  works  shall  be  opened  and  read,  the  best  judges 
will  find  connection,  consistency,  solidity,  and  spirit  in  it. 
Mr.  Harte  may  recenserc  and  emendare,  as  much  as  he 
pleases ;  but  it  will  be  to  little  purpose,  if  you  do  not  co- 
operate with  him.  The  work  will  be  imperfect. 

I  thank  you  for  your  last  information  of  our  success  in 
the  Mediterranean,  and  you  say  very  rightly  that  a  secre- 
tary of  state  ought  to  be  well  informed.  I  hope,  therefore, 
you  will  take  care  that  I  shall.  You  are  near  the  busy 
scene  in  Italy ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  that,  by  frequently 
looking  at  the  map,  you  have  all  that  theatre  of  the  war 
very  perfect  in  your  mind. 

I  like  your  account  of  the  salt  works ;  which  shows  that 
you  gave  some  attention  while  you  were  seeing  them.  But 
notwithstanding  that,  by  your  account,  the  Swiss  salt  is 
(I  dare  say)  very  good,  yet  I  am  apt  to  suspect  that  it 
falls  a  little  short  of  the  true  Attic  salt  in  which  there  was 
a  peculiar  quickness  and  delicacy.  That  same  Attic  salt 
seasoned  almost  all  Greece,  except  Boeotia,  and  a  great  deal 
of  it  was  exported  afterward  to  Rome,  where  it  was  coun- 
terfeited by  a  composition  called  Urbanity,  which  in  some 
time  was  brought  to  very  near  the  perfection  of  the  orig- 


I4  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

inal  Attic  salt.  The  more  you  are  powdered  with  these 
two  kinds  of  salt,  the  better  you  will  keep,  and  the  more 
you  will  be  relished. 

Adieu!     My  compliments  to  Mr.    Harte    and    Mr.    Eliot. 


LETTER   IX 

LONDON,  April  14,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY :  If  you  feel  half  the  pleasure  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  doing  well,  that  I  do  from  the  inform- 
ations I  have  lately  received  in  your  favor  from  Mr. 
Harte,  I  shall  have  little  occasion  to  exhort  or  admonish 
you  any  more  to  do  what  your  own  satisfaction  and  self- 
love  will  sufficiently  prompt  you  to.  Mr.  Harte  tells  me 
that  you  attend,  that  you  apply  to  your  studies ;  and  that 
beginning  to  understand,  you  begin  to  taste  them.  This 
pleasure  will  increase,  and  keep  pace  with  your  attention; 
so  that  the  balance  will  be  greatly  to  your  advantage.  You 
may  remember,  that  I  have  always  earnestly  recommended 
to  you,  to  do  what  you  are  about,  be  that  what  it  will ; 
and  to  do  nothing  else  at  the  same  time.  Do  not  imagine 
that  I  mean  by  this,  that  you  should  attend  to  and  plod 
at  your  book  all  day  long;  far  from  it;  I  mean  that  you 
should  have  your  pleasures  too ;  and  that  you  should  attend 
to  them  for  the  time,  as  much  as  to  your  studies ;  and,  if 
you  do  not  attend  equally  to  both,  you  will  neither  have 
improvement  nor  satisfaction  from  either.  A  man  is  fit  for 
neither  business  nor  pleasure,  who  either  cannot,  or  does 
not,  command  and  direct  his  attention  to  the  present  ob- 
ject, and,  in  some  degree,  banish  for  that  time  all  other 
objects  from  his  thoughts.  If  at  a  ball,  a  supper,  or  a 
party  of  pleasure,  a  man  were  to  be  solving,  in  his  own 
mind,  a  problem  in  Euclid,  he  would  be  a  very  bad  com- 
panion, and  make  a  very  poor  figure  in  that  company;  or 
if,  in  studying  a  problem  in  his  closet,  he  were  to  think  of 
a  minuet,  I  am  apt  to  believe  that  he  would  make  a  very 
poor  mathematician.  There  is  time  enough  for  everything, 
in  the  course  of  the  day,  if  you  do  but  one  thing  at  once ; 
but  there  is  not  time  enough  in  the  year,  if  you  will  do 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  15 

two  things  at  a  time.  The  Pensionary  de  Witt,  who  was 
torn  to  pieces  in  the  year  1672,  did  the  whole  business  of 
the  Republic,  and  yet  had  time  left  to  go  to  assemblies  in 
the  evening,  and  sup  in  company.  Being  asked  how  he 
could  possibly  find  time  to  go  through  so  much  business, 
and  yet  amuse  himself  in  the  evenings  as  he  did,  he  an- 
swered, there  was  nothing  so  easy ;  for  that  it  was  only 
doing  one  thing  at  a  time,  and  never  putting  off  anything 
till  to-morrow  that  could  be  done  to-day.  This  steady  and 
undissipated  attention  to  one  object  is  a  sure  mark  of  a 
superior  genius;  as  hurry,  bustle,  and  agitation  are  the 
never-failing  symptoms  of  a  weak  and  frivolous  mind. 
When  you  read  Horace,  attend  to  the  justness  of  his 
thoughts,  the  happiness  of  his  diction,  and  the  beauty  of 
his  poetry;  and  do  not  think  of  Puffendorf  de  Homine  et 
Cive;  and,  when  you  are  reading  Puffendorf,  do  not  think 
of  Madame  de  St.  Germain  ;  nor  of  Puffendorf,  when  you 
are  talking  to  Madame  de  St.  Germain. 

Mr.  Harte  informs  me,  that  he  has  reimbursed  you  of 
part  of  your  losses  in  Germany  ;  and  I  consent  to  his  re- 
imbursing you  of  the  whole,  now  that  I  know  you  deserve 
it.  I  shall  grudge  you  nothing,  nor  shall  you  want  any- 
thing that  you  desire,  provided  you  deserve  it;  so  that  you 
see,  it  is  in  your  own  power  to  have  whatever  you  please. 

There  is  a  little  book  which  you  read  here  with  Monsieur 
Coderc  entitled,  Manitre  de  bien  penser  dans  les  Outrages 
d*  Esprit,  written  by  P6re  Bonhours.  I  wish  you  would 
read  this  book  again  at  your  leisure  hours,  for  it  will  not 
only  divert  you,  but  likewise  form  your  taste,  and  give  you 
a  just  manner  of  thinking.  Adieu! 


LETTER     X 

LONDON,  June  30,   O.  S.   1747. 

DBAR  Boy:  I   was    extremely    pleased    with    the    account 
which  you  gave  me  in  your  last,  of  the  civilities  that 
you    received    in    your    Swiss    progress ;    and    I  have 
written,  by  this  post,  to  Mr.  Burnaby,  and  to  the  Avoyer, 
to  thank  them  for  their    parts.      If    the    attention    you  met 


16  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

with  pleased  you,  as  I  dare  say  it  did,  you  will,  I  hope, 
draw  this  general  conclusion  from  it,  that  attention  and 
civility  please  all  those  to  whom  they  are  paid ;  and  that 
you  will  please  others  in  proportion  as  you  are  attentive 
and  civil  to  them. 

Bishop  Burnet  has  wrote  his  travels  through  Switzerland ; 
and  Mr.  Stanyan,  from  a  long  residence  there,  has  written 
the  best  account,  yet  extant,  of  the  Thirteen  Cantons;  but 
those  books  will  be  read  no  more,  I  presume,  after  you 
shall  have  published  your  account  of  that  country.  I  hope 
you  will  favor  me  witTi  one  of  the  first  copies.  To  be 
serious ;  though  I  do  not  desire  that  you  should  immediately 
turn  author,  and  oblige  the  world  with  your  travels;  yet, 
wherever  you  go,  I  would  have  you  as  curious  and  in- 
quisitive as  if  you  did  intend  to  write  them.  I  do  not 
mean  that  you  should  give  yourself  so  much  trouble,  to 
know  the  number  of  houses,  inhabitants,  signposts,  and 
tombstones,  of  every  town  that  you  go  through ;  but  that 
you  should  inform  yourself,  as  well  as  your  stay  will  per- 
mit you,  whether  the  town  is  free,  or  to  whom  it  belongs, 
or  in  what  manner  :  whether  it  has  any  peculiar  privileges 
or  customs;  what  trade  or  manufactures;  and  such  other 
particulars  as  people  of  sense  desire  to  know.  And  there 
would  be  no  manner  of  harm  if  you  were  to  take  mem- 
orandums of  such  things  in  a  paper  book  to  help  your 
memory.  The  only  way  of  knowing  all  these  things  is  to 
keep  the  best  company,  who  can  best  inform  you  of  them. 

I  am  just  now  called  away ;    so  good  night. 


LETTER     XI 

LONDON,  July  20,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY:  In    your   Mamma's    letter,   which    goes   here 
inclosed,  you  will  find  one  from  my    sister,  to  thank 
you  for  the  Arquebusade  water  which  you  sent  her; 
and  which  she  takes  very  kindly.     She  would  not  show  me 
her  letter    to    you;    but    told    me    that    it    contained    good 
wishes  and    good    advice ;    and,  as    I    know    she    will  show 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  17 

your  letter  in  answer  to  hers,  I  send  you  here  inclosed  the 
draught  of  the  letter  which  I  would  have  you  write  to  her. 
I  hope  you  will  not  be  offended  at  my  offering  you  my  as- 
sistance upon  this  occasion;  because,  I  presume,  that  as  yet, 
you  are  not  much  used  to  write  to  ladies.  A  propos  of 
letter-writing,  the  best  models  that  you  can  form  yourself 
upon  are,  Cicero,  Cardinal  d'Ossat,  Madame  Sevign6,  and 
Comte  Bussy  Rebutin.  Cicero's  Epistles  to  Atticus,  and 
to  his  familiar  friends,  are  the  best  examples  that  you  can 
imitate,  in  the  friendly  and  the  familiar  style.  The  sim- 
plicity and  the  clearness  of  Cardinal  d'Ossat's  letters  show 
how  letters  of  business  ought  to  be  written ;  no  affected 
turns,  no  attempts  at  wit,  obscure  or  perplex  his  matter; 
which  is  always  plainly  and  clearly  stated,  as  business 
always  should  be.  For  gay  and  amusing  letters,  for  enjoue- 
ment  and  badinage,  there  are  none  that  equal  Comte  Bussy 's 
and  Madame  Sevign£'s.  They  are  so  natural,  that  they 
seem  to  be  the  extempore  conversations  of  two  people  of 
wit,  rather  than  letters  which  are  commonly  studied,  though 
they  ought  not  to  be  so.  I  would  advise  you  to  let  that 
book  be  one  in  your  itinerant  library;  it  will  both  amuse 
and  inform  you. 

I  have  not  time  to  add  any  more  now;  so  good  night. 


LETTER    XII 

LONDON,  July  30,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY:  It   is    now    four   posts  since  I  have  received 
any  letter,  either    from    you    or  from    Mr.  Harte.      I 
impute  this  to  the    rapidity    of   your    travels  through 
Switzerland;   which  I  suppose  are  by  this  time  finished. 

You  will  have  found  by  my  late  letters,  both  to  you  and 
Mr.  Harte,  that  you  are  to  be  at  Leipsig  by  next  Michael- 
mas; where  you  will  be  lodged  in  the  house  of  Professor 
Mascow,  and  boarded  in  the  neighborhood  of  it,  with  some 
young  men  of  fashion.  The  professor  will  read  you  lec- 
tures upon  Grotius  de  Jure  Belli  et  Pads,  the  Institutes  of 
Justinian  and  the  Jus  Publicum  Imperii  ;  which  I 


i8  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

expect  that  you  shall  not  only  hear,  but  attend  to,  and  retain. 
I  also  expect  that  you  make  yourself  perfectly  master  of 
the  German  language;  which  you  may  very  soon  do  there, 
if  you  please.  I  give  you  fair  warning,  that  at  Leipsig  I 
shall  have  an  hundred  invisible  spies  about  you ;  and  shall 
be  exactly  informed  of  everything  that  you  do,  and  of 
almost  everything  that  you  say.  I  hope  that,  in  conse- 
quence of  those  minute  informations,  I  may  be  able  to  say 
of  you,  what  Velleius  Paterculus  says  of  Scipio;  that  in  his 
whole  life,  nihil  non  laudandum  out  dixit,  aut  fecit,  aut 
sensit.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  good  company  in  Leipsig, 
which  I  would  have  you  frequent  in  the  evenings,  when 
the  studies  of  the  day  are  over.  There  is  likewise  a  kind 
of  court  kept  there,  by  a  Duchess  Dowager  of  Courland; 
at  which  you  should  get  introduced.  The  King  of  Poland 
and  his  Court  go  likewise  to  the  fair  at  Leipsig  twice  a 
year;  and  I  shall  write  to  Sir  Charles  Williams,  the  king's 
minister  there,  to  have  you  presented,  and  introduced  into 
good  company.  But  I  must  remind  you,  at  the  same  time, 
that  it  will  be  to  a  very  little  purpose  for  you  to  frequent 
good  company,  if  you  do  not  conform  to,  and  learn  their 
manners ;  if  you  are  not  attentive  to  please,  and  well  bred, 
with  the  easiness  of  a  man  of  fashion.  As  you  must  at- 
tend to  your  manners,  so  you  must  not  neglect  your  person; 
but  take  care  to  be  very  clean,  well  dressed,  and  genteel; 
to  have  no  disagreeable  attitudes,  nor  awkward  tricks;  which 
many  people  use  themselves  to,  and  then  cannot  leave  them 
off.  Do  you  take  care  to  keep  your  teeth  very  clean,  by 
washing  them  constantly  every  morning,  and  after  every 
meal?  This  is  very  necessary,  both  to  preserve  your  teeth 
a  great  while,  and  to  save  you  a  great  deal  of  pain.  Mine 
have  plagued  me  long,  and  are  now  falling  out,  merely 
from  want  of  care  when  I  was  your  age.  Do  you  dress 
well,  and  not  too  well?  Do  you  consider  your  air  and 
manner  of  presenting  yourself  enough,  and  not  too  much? 
Neither  negligent  nor  stiff?  All  these  things  deserve  a  de- 
gree of  care,  a  second-rate  attention ;  they  give  an- 
additional  lustre  to  real  merit.  My  Lord  Bacon  says,  that 
a  pleasing  figure  is  a  perpetual  letter  of  recommendation. 
It  is  certainly  an  agreeable  forerunner  of  merit,  and 
smoothes  the  way  for  it. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  19 

Remember  that  I  shall  see  you  at  Hanover  next  summer, 
and  shall  expect  perfection;  which  if  I  do  not  meet  with, 
or  at  least  something  very  near  it,  you  and  I  shall  not  be 
very  well  together.  I  shall  dissect  and  analyze  you  with  a 
microscope ;  so  that  I  shall  discover  the  least  speck  or  blem- 
ish. This  is  fair  warning;  therefore  take  your  measures 
accordingly.  Yours. 


LETTER    XIII 

LONDON,  August  21,  O.  S.   1747. 

DKAR  BOY  :  I  reckon  that  this  letter  has  but  a  bare 
chance  of  finding  you  at  Lausanne;  but  I  was  re- 
solved to  risk  it,  as  it  is  the  last  that  I  shall  write 
to  you  till  you  are  settled  at  Leipsig.  I  sent  you  by  the 
last  post,  under  cover  to  Mr.  Harte,  a  letter  of  recommen- 
dation to  one  of  the  first  people  at  Munich;  which  you  will 
take  care  to  present  to  him  in  the  politest  manner ;  he  will 
certainly  have  you  presented  to  the  electoral  family;  and  I 
hope  you  will  go  through  that  ceremony  with  great  respect, 
good  breeding,  and  ease.  As  this  is  the  first  court  that 
ever  you  will  have  been  at,  take  care  to  inform  yourself  if 
there  be  any  particular  customs  or  forms  to  be  observed, 
that  you  may  not  commit  any  mistake.  At  Vienna  men 
always  make  courtesies,  instead  of  bows,  to  the  emperor;  in 
France  nobody  bows  at  all  to  the  king,  nor  kisses  his  hand; 
but  in  Spain  and  England,  bows  are  made,  and  hands  are 
kissed.  Thus  every  court  has  some  peculiarity  or  other,  of 
which  those  who  go  to  them  ought  previously  to  inform 
themselves,  to  avoid  blunders  and  awkwardnesses. 

I  have  not  time  to  say  any  more  now,  than  to  wish  you 
a  good  journey  to  Leipsig;  and  great  attention,  both  there 
and  in  going  there.  Adieu. 


20  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER   XIV 

LONDON,  September  21,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  received,  by  the  last  post,  your  letter  of 
the  8th,  N.  S.,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are 
surprised  at  the  credulity  and  superstition  of  the 
Papists  at  Einsiedlen,  and  at  their  absurd  stories  of  their 
chapel.  But  remember,  at  the  same  time,  that  errors  and 
mistakes,  however  gross,  in  matters  of  opinion,  if  they  are 
sincere,  are  to  be  pitied,  but  not  punished  nor  laughed  at. 
The  blindness  of  the  understanding  is  as  much  to  be  pitied 
as  the  blindness  of  the  eye;  and  there  is  neither  jest  nor 
guilt  in  a  man's  losing  his  way  in  either  case.  Charity 
bids  us  set  him  right  if  we  can,  by  arguments  and  persua- 
sions ;  but  charity,  at  the  same  time,  forbids,  either  to 
punish  or  ridicule  his  misfortune.  Every  man's  reason  is, 
and  must  be,  his  guide;  and  I  may  as  well  expect  that  every 
man  should  be  of  my  size  and  complexion,  as  that  he  should 
reason  just  as  I  do.  Every  man  seeks  for  truth ;  but  God 
only  knows  who  has  found  it.  It  is,  therefore,  as  unjust 
to  persecute,  as  it  is  absurd  to  ridicule,  people  for  those 
several  opinions,  which  they  cannot  help  entertaining  upon 
the  conviction  of  their  reason.  It  is  the  man  who  tells,  or 
who  acts  a  lie,  that  is  guilty,  and  not  he  who  honestly  and 
sincerely  believes  the  lie.  I  really  know  nothing  more 
criminal,  more  mean,  and  more  ridiculous  than  lying.  It  is 
the  production  either  of  malice,  cowardice,  or  vanity;  and 
generally  misses  of  its  aim  in  every  one  of  these  views;  for 
lies  are  always  detected  sooner  or  later.  If  I  tell  a  mali- 
cious lie,  in  order  to  affect  any  man's  fortune  or  character, 
I  may  indeed  injure  him  for  some  time ;  but  I  shall  be  sure 
to  be  the  greatest  sufferer  myself  at  last ;  for  as  soon  as  ever 
I  am  detected  (and  detected  I  most  certainly  shall  be),  I  am 
blasted  for  the  infamous  attempt ;  and  whatever  is  said 
afterward,  to  the  disadvantage  of  that  person,  however  true, 
passes  for  calumny.  If  I  lie,  or  equivocate  (for  it  is  the 
same  thing) ,  in  order  to  excuse  myself  for  something  that  I 
have  said  or  done,  and  to  avoid  the  danger  and  the  shame 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  21 

tliat  I  apprehend  from  it,  I  discover  at  once  my  fear  as 
well  as  my  falsehood;  and  only  increase,  instead  of  avoid- 
ing, the  danger  and  the  shame  ;  I  show  myself  to  be  the  lowest 
and  the  meanest  of  mankind,  and  am  sure  to  be  always  treated 
as  such.  Fear,  instead  of  avoiding,  invites  danger ;  for  con- 
cealed cowards  will  insult  known  ones.  If  one  has  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  in  the  wrong,  there  is  something  noble  in 
frankly  owning  it;  it  is  the  only  way  of  atoning  for  it, 
and  the  only  way  of  being  forgiven.  Equivocating,  evad- 
ing, shuffling,  in  order  to  remove  a  present  danger  or  in- 
con  veniency,  is  something  so  mean,  and  betrays  so  much 
fear,  that  whoever  practices  them  always  deserves  to  be, 
and  often  will  be  kicked.  There  is  another  sort  of  lies, 
inoffensive  enough  in  themselves,  but  wonderfully  ridicu- 
lous; I  mean  those  lies  which  a  mistaken  vanity  suggests, 
that  defeat  the  very  end  for  which  they  are  calculated,  and 
terminate  in  the  humiliation  and  confusion  of  their  author, 
who  is  sure  to  be  detected.  These  are  chiefly  narrative  and 
historical  lies,  all  intended  to  do  infinite  honor  to  their 
author.  He  is  always  the  hero  of  his  own  romances;  he 
has  been  in  dangers  from  which  nobody  but  himself 
ever  escaped;  he  has  seen  with  his  own  eyes,  whatever 
other  people  have  heard  or  read  of:  he  has  had  more  bonnes 
fortunes  than  ever  he  knew  women ;  and  has  ridden  more 
miles  post  in  one  day,  than  ever  courier  went  in  two.  He 
is  soon  discovered,  and  as  soon  becomes  the  object  of  uni- 
versal contempt  and  ridicule.  Remember,  then,  as  long  as 
you  live,  that  nothing  but  strict  truth  can  carry  you  through 
the  world,  with  either  your  conscience  or  your  honor  un- 
wounded.  It  is  not  only  your  duty,  but  your  interest ;  as 
a  proof  of  which  you  may  always  observe,  that  the  greatest 
fools  are  the  greatest  liars.  For  my  own  part,  I  judge  of 
every  man's  truth  by  his  degree  of  understanding. 

This  letter  will,  I  suppose,  find  you  at  Leipsig;  where  I 
expect  and  require  from  you  attention  and  accuracy,  in 
both  which  you  have  hitherto  been  very  deficient.  Re- 
member that  I  shall  see  you  in  the  summer;  shall  examine 
you  most  narrowly;  and  will  never  forget  nor  forgive  those 
faults,  which  it  has  been  in  your  own  power  to  prevent  or 
cure;  and  be  assured  that  I  have  many  eyes  upon  you  at 
Leipsig,  besides  Mr.  Harte's.  Adieu ! 


22  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 


"LETTER  XV 

LONDON,  October  2,  O.  S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY:  By  your  letter  of  the  i8th  past,  N.  SM  I 
find  that  you  are  a  tolerably  good  landscape  painter, 
and  can  present  the  several  views  of  Switzerland  to 
the  curious.  I  am  very  glad  of  it,  as  it  is  a  proof  of 
some  attention ;  but  I  hope  you  will  be  as  good  a  portrait 
painter,  which  is  a  much  more  noble  science.  By  portraits, 
you  will  easily  judge,  that  I  do  not  mean  the  outlines  and 
the  coloring  of  the  human  figure ;  but  the  inside  of  the 
heart  and  mind  of  man.  This  science  requires  more  atten- 
tion, observation,  and  penetration,  than  the  other;  as  in- 
deed it  is  infinitely  more  useful.  Search,  therefore,  with 
the  greatest  care,  into  the  characters  of  those  whom  you 
converse  with ;  endeavor  to  discover  their  predominant  pas- 
sions, their  prevailing  weaknesses,  their  vanities,  their  fol- 
lies, and  their  humors,  with  all  the  right  and  wrong,  wise 
and  silly  springs  of  human  actions,  which  make  such  in- 
consistent and  whimsical  beings  of  us  rational  creatures. 
A  moderate  share  of  penetration,  with  great  attention,  will 
infallibly  make  these  necessary  discoveries.  This  is  the 
true  knowledge  of  the  world ;  and  the  world  is  a  country 
which  nobody  ever  yet  knew  by  description ;  one  must 
travel  through  it  one's  self  to  be  acquainted  with  it.  The 
scholar,  who  in  the  dust  of  his  closet  talks  or  writes  of  the 
world,  knows  no  more  of  it,  than  that  orator  did  of  war, 
who  judiciously  endeavored  to  instruct  Hannibal  in  it. 
Courts  and  camps  are  the  only  places  to  learn  the  world 
in.  There  alone  all  kinds  of  characters  resort,  and  human 
nature  is  seen  in  all  the  various  shapes  and  modes,  which 
education,  custom,  and  habit  give  it ;  whereas,  in  all  other 
places,  one  local  mode  generally  prevails,  and  producing  a 
seeming  though  not  a  real  sameness  of  character.  For  ex- 
ample, one  general  mode  distinguishes  an  university,  another 
a  trading  town,  a  third  a  seaport  town,  and  so  on; 
whereas,  at  a  capital,  where  the  Prince  or  the  Supreme 
Power  resides,  some  of  all  these  various  modes  are  to  be 
seen,  and  seen  in  action  too,  exerting  their  utmost  skill  in 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  23 

pursuit  of  their  several  objects.  Human  nature  is  the 
same  all  over  the  world;  but  its  operations  are  so  varied 
by  education  and  habit,  that  one  must  see  it  in  all  its 
dresses  in  order  to  be  intimately  acquainted  with  it. 
The  passion  of  ambition,  for  instance,  is  the  same  in  a 
courtier,  a  soldier,  or  an  ecclesiastic ;  but,  from  their  dif- 
ferent educations  and  habits,  they  will  take  very  different 
methods  to  gratify  it.  Civility,  which  is  a  disposition 
to  accommodate  and  oblige  others,  is  essentially  the  same  in 
every  country;  but  good-breeding,  as  it  is  called,  which 
is  the  manner  of  exerting  that  disposition,  is  different 
in  almost  every  country,  and  merely  local ;  and  every 
man  of  sense  imitates  and  conforms  to  that  local  good-breed- 
ing of  the  place  which  he  is  at.  A  conformity  and  flexibility 
of  manners  is  necessary  in  the  course  of  the  world;  that  is, 
with  regard  to  all  things  which  are  not  wrong  in  themselves. 
The  versatile  ingenium  is  the  most  useful  of  all.  It  can 
turn  itself  instantly  from  one  object  to  another,  assuming 
the  proper  manner  for  each.  It  can  be  serious  with  the 
grave,  cheerful  with  the  gay,  and  trifling  with  the  frivo- 
lous. Endeavor  by  all  means,  to  acquire  this  talent,  for  it 
is  a  very  great  one. 

As  I  hardly  know  anything  more  useful,  than  to  see, 
from  time  to  time,  pictures  of  one's  self  drawn  by  dif- 
ferent hands,  I  send  you  here  a  sketch  of  yourself,  drawn 
at  Lausanne,  while  you  were  there,  and  sent  over  here  by 
a  person  who  little  thought  that  it  would  ever  fall  into 
my  hands:  and  indeed  it  was  by  the  greatest  accident  in 
the  world  that  it  did. 


LETTER  XVI 

LONDON,  October  9,  O.S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY  :     People    of   your   age    have,    commonly,    an 
unguarded  frankness  about  them ;  which  makes  them 
the  easy  prey   and  bubbles  of  the  artful  and  the  ex- 
perienced ;    they  look  upon    every  knave   or  fool,  who    tells 
them  that  he  is  their  friend,  to  be  really  so ;    and  pay  that 
profession    of   simulated    friendship,  with  an   indiscreet  and 


24  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

unbounded  confidence,  always  to  their  loss,  often  to  their 
ruin.  Beware,  therefore,  now  that  you  are  coming  into 
the  world,  of  these  preferred  friendships.  Receive  them 
with  great  civility,  but  with  great  incredulity  too ;  and 
pay  them  with  compliments,  but  not  with  confidence,  Do 
not  let  your  vanity  and  self-love  make  you  suppose  that 
people  become  your  friends  at  first  sight,  or  even  upon  a 
short  acquaintance.  Real  friendship  is  a  slow  grower : 
and  never  thrives  unless  ingrafted  upon  a  stock  of  known 
and  reciprocal  merit.  There  is  another  kind  of  nominal 
friendship  among  young  people,  which  is  warm  for  the 
time,  but  by  good  luck,  of  short  duration.  This  friend- 
ship is  hastily  produced,  by  their  being  accidentally 
thrown  together,  and  pursuing  the  course  of  riot  and  de- 
bauchery. A  fine  friendship,  truly;  and  well  cemented  by 
drunkenness  and  lewdness.  It  should  rather  be  called  a 
conspiracy  against  morals  and  good  manners,  and  be  pun- 
ished as  such  by  the  civil  magistrate.  However,  they  have 
the  impudence  and  folly  to  call  this  confederacy  a  friend- 
ship. They  lend  one  another  money,  for  bad  purposes; 
they  engage  in  quarrels,  offensive  and  defensive,  for  their 
accomplices ;  they  tell  one  another  all  they  know,  and 
often  more  too,  when,  of  a  sudden,  some  accident  disperses 
them,  and  they  think  no  more  of  each  other,  unless  it  be 
to  betray  and  laugh  at  their  imprudent  confidence.  Re- 
member to  make  a  great  difference  between  companions 
and  friends ;  for  a  very  complaisant  and  agreeable  com- 
panion may,  and  often  does,  prove  a  very  improper  and  a 
very  dangerous  friend.  People  will,  in  a  great  degree, 
and  not  without  reason,  form  their  opinion  of  you,  upon 
that  which  they  have  of  your  friends ;  and  there  is  a 
Spanish  proverb,  which  says  very  justly,  TELL  ME  WHO 

YOU     LIVE     WITH     AND     I     WILL     TELL     YOU     WHO    YOU    ARE. 

One  may  fairly  suppose,  that  the  man  who  makes  a  knave 
or  a  fool  his  friend,  has  something  very  bad  to  do  or  to 
conceal.  But,  at  the  same  time  that  you  carefully  decline 
the  friendship  of  knaves  and  fools,  if  it  can  be  called 
friendship,  there  is  no  occasion  to  make  either  of  them 
your  enemies,  wantonly  and  unprovoked;  for  they  are 
numerous  bodies:  and  I  would  rather  choose  a  secure  neu- 
trality, than  alliance,  or  war  with  either  of  them.  You 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  25 

may  be  a  declared  enemy  to  their  vices  and  follies,  with- 
out being  marked  out  by  them  as  a  personal  one.  Their 
enmity  is  the  next  dangerous  thing  to  their  friendship. 
Have  a  real  reserve  with  almost  everybody ;  and  have  a 
seeming  reserve  with  almost  nobody ;  for  it  is  very  dis- 
agreeable to  seem  reserved,  and  very  dangerous  not  to  be 
so.  Few  people  find  the  true  medium ;  many  are  ridicu- 
lously mysterious  and  reserved  upon  trifles;  and  many  im- 
prudently communicative  of  all  they  know. 

The  next  thing  to  the  choice  of  your  friends,  is  the 
choice  of  your  company.  Endeavor,  as  much  as  you  can, 
to  keep  company  with  people  above  you:  there  you  rise, 
as  much  as  you  sink  with  people  below  you ;  for  (as  I 
have  mentioned  before)  you  are  whatever  the  company  you 
keep  is.  Do  not  mistake,  when  I  say  company  above  you, 
and  think  that  I  mean  with  regard  to  their  birth :  that  is 
the  least  consideration ;  but  I  mean  with  regard  to  their 
merit,  and  the  light  in  which  the  world  considers  them. 

There  are  two  sorts  of  good  company;  one,  which  is 
called  the  beau  monde,  and  consists  of  the  people  who  have 
the  lead  in  courts,  and  in  the  gay  parts  of  life ;  the  other 
consists  of  those  who  are  distinguished  by  some  peculiar 
merit,  or  who  excel  in  some  particular  and  valuable  art  or 
science.  For  my  own  part,  I  used  to  think  myself  in  com- 
pany as  much  above  me,  when  I  was  with  Mr.  Addison 
and  Mr.  Pope,  as  if  I  had  been  with  all  the  princes  in 
Europe.  What  I  mean  by  low  company,  which  should  by 
all  means  be  avoided,  is  the  company  of  those,  who,  abso- 
lutely insignificant  and  contemptible  in  themselves,  think 
they  are  honored  by  being  in  your  company,  and  who 
flatter  every  vice  and  every  folly  you  have,  in  order  to  en- 
gage you  to  converse  with  them.  The  pride  of  being  the 
first  of  the  company  is  but  too  common ;  but  it  is  very 
silly,  and  very  prejudicial.  Nothing  in  the  world  lets  down 
a  character  quicker  than  that  wrong  turn. 

You  may  possibly  ask  me,  whether  a  man  has  it  always 
in  his  power  to  get  the  best  company?  and  how?  I  say, 
Yes,  he  has,  by  deserving  it ;  providing  he  is  but  in  cir- 
cumstances which  enable  him  to  appear  upon  the  footing 
of  a  gentleman.  Merit  and  good-breeding  will  make  their 
way  everywhere.  Knowledge  will  introduce  him,  and 


26  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

good-breeding  will  endear  him  to  the  best  companies :  for, 
as  I  have  often  told  you,  politeness  and  good-breeding  are 
absolutely  necessary  to  adorn  any,  or  all  other  good  quali- 
ties or  talents.  Without  them,  no  knowledge,  no  perfection 
whatever,  is  seen  in  its  best  light.  The  scholar,  without 
good-breeding,  is  a  pedant;  the  philosopher,  a  cynic;  the 
soldier,  a  brute ;  and  every  man  disagreeable. 

I  long  to  hear,  from  my  several  correspondents  at  Leip- 
sig,  of  your  arrival  there,  and  what  impression  you  make 
on  them  at  first;  for  I  have  Arguses,  with  an  hundred 
eyes  each,  who  will  watch  you  narrowly,  and  relate  to  me 
faithfully.  My  accounts  will  certainly  be  true;  it  depends 
upon  you,  entirely,  of  what  kind  they  shall  be.  Adieu. 


LETTER  XVII 

LONDON,  October  16,  O.  S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY:  The  art  of  pleasing  is  a  very  necessary  one 
to  possess ;  but  a  very  difficult  one  to  acquire.  It 
can  hardly  be  reduced  to  rules ;  and  your  own  good 
sense  and  observation  will  teach  you  more  of  it  than  I  can. 
Do  as  you  would  be  done  by,  is  the  surest  method  that  I 
know  of  pleasing.  Observe  carefully  what  pleases  you  in 
others,  and  probably  the  same  thing  in  you  will  please 
others.  If  you  are  pleased  with  the  complaisance  and  at- 
tention of  others  to  your  humors,  your  tastes,  or  your 
weaknesses,  depend  upon  it  the  same  complaisance  and  at- 
tention, on  your  part  to  theirs,  will  equally  please  them. 
Take  the  tone  of  the  company  that  you  are  in,  and  do  not 
pretend  to  give  it ;  be  serious,  gay,  or  even  trifling,  as  you 
find  the  present  humor  of  the  company ;  this  is  an  attention 
due  from  every  individual  to  the  majority.  Do  not  tell 
stories  in  company;  there  is  nothing  more  tedious  and  dis- 
agreeable ;  if  by  chance  you  know  a  very  short  story,  and 
exceedingly  applicable  to  the  present  subject  of  conversa- 
tion, tell  it  in  as  few  words  as  possible;  and  even  then, 
throw  out  that  you  do  not  love  to  tell  stories ;  but  that  the 
shortness  of  it  tempted  you.  Of  all  things,  banish  the 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  27 

egotism  out  of  your  conversation,  and  never  think  of 
entertaining  people  with  your  own  personal  concerns,  or  pri- 
vate affairs ;  though  they  are  interesting  to  you,  they  are 
tedious  and  impertinent  to  everybody  else ;  besides  that,  one 
cannot  keep  one's  own  private  affairs  too  secret.  Whatever 
you  think  your  own  excellencies  may  be,  do  not  affectedly 
display  them  in  company ;  nor  labor,  as  many  people  do, 
to  give  that  turn  to  the  conversation,  which  may  supply 
you  with  an  opportunity  of  exhibiting  them.  If  they  are 
real,  they  will  infallibly  be  discovered,  without  your  point- 
ing them  out  yourself,  and  with  much  more  advantage. 
Never  maintain  an  argument  with  heat  and  clamor,  though 
you  think  or  know  yourself  to  be  in  the  right :  but  give 
your  opinion  modestly  and  coolly,  which  is  the  only  way 
to  convince;  and,  if  that  does  not  do,  try  to  change  the 
conversation,  by  saying,  with  good  humor,  <(  We  shall 
hardly  convince  one  another,  nor  is  it  necessary  that  we 
should,  so  let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

Remember  that  there  is  a  local  propriety  to  be  observed 
in  all  companies;  and  that  what  is  extremely  proper  in  one 
company,  may  be,  and  often  is,  highly  improper  in  an- 
other. 

The  jokes,  the  bonmots^  the  little  adventures,  which  may 
do  very  well  in  one  company,  will  seem  flat  and  tedious, 
when  related  in  another.  The  particular  characters,  the 
habits,  the  cant  of  one  company,  may  give  merit  to  a 
word,  or  a  gesture,  which  would  have  none  at  all  if  di- 
vested of  those  accidental  circumstances.  Here  people  very 
commonly  err;  and  fond  of  something  that  has  entertained 
them  in  one  company,  and  in  certain  circumstances,  repeat 
it  with  emphasis  in  another,  where  it  is  either  insipid,  or, 
it  may  be,  offensive,  by  being  ill-timed  or  misplaced.  Nay, 
they  often  do  it  with  this  silly  preamble ;  <(  I  will  tell  you 
an  excellent  thing B ;  or,  <(  I  will  tell  you  the  best  thing  in 
the  world."  This  raises  expectations,  which,  when  abso- 
lutely disappointed,  make  the  relater  of  this  excellent  thing 
look,  very  deservedly,  like  a  fool. 

If  you  would  particularly  gain  the  affection  and  friend- 
ship of  particular  people,  whether  men  or  women,  en- 
deavor to  find  out  the  predominant  excellency,  if  they  have 
one,  and  their  prevailing  weakness,  which  everybody  has ; 


28  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

and  do  justice  to  the  one,  and  something  more  than  justice 
to  the  other.  Men  have  various  objects  in  which  they  may 
excel,  or  at  least  would  be  thought  to  excel ;  and,  though 
they  love  to  hear  justice  done  to  them,  where  they  know 
that  thev  excel,  yet  they  are  most  and  best  flattered  upon 
those  points  where  they  wish  to  excel,  and  yet  are  doubt- 
ful whether  they  do  or  not.  As,  for  example,  Cardinal 
Richelieu,  who  was  undoubtedly  the  ablest  statesman  of  his 
time,  or  perhaps  of  any  other,  had  the  idle  vanity  of  being 
thought  the  best  poet  too ;  he  envied  the  great  Corneille 
his  reputation,  and  ordered  a  criticism  to  be  written  upon 
the  ^Cid."  Those,  therefore,  who  flattered  skillfully,  said 
little  to  him  of  his  abilities  in  state  affairs,  or  at  least  but 
en  passant,  and  as  it  might  naturally  occur.  But  the  in- 
cense which  they  gave  him,  the  smoke  of  which  they  knew 
would  turn  his  head  in  their  favor,  was  as  a  bel  esprit  and 
a  poet.  Why?  Because  he  was  sure  of  one  excellency, 
and  distrustful  as  to  the  other.  You  will  easily  discover 
every  man's  prevailing  vanity,  by  observing  his  favorite 
topic  of  conversation ;  for  every  man  talks  most  of  what 
he  has  most  a  mind  to  be  thought  to  excel  in.  Touch  him 
but  there,  and  you  touch  him  to  the  quick.  The  late  Sir 
Robert  Walpole  (who  was  certainly  an  able  man)  was 
little  open  to  flattery  upon  that  head;  for  he  was  in  no 
doubt  himself  about  it;  but  his  prevailing  weakness  was, 
to  be  thought  to  have  a  polite  and  happy  turn  to  gallantry; 
of  which  he  had  undoubtedly  less  than  any  man  living:  it 
was  his  favorite  and  frequent  subject  of  conversation  :  which 
proved,  to  those  who  had  any  penetration,  that  it  was  his 
prevailing  weakness.  And  they  applied  to  it  with  success. 
Women  have,  in  general,  but  one  object,  which  is  their 
beauty;  upon  which,  scarce  any  flattery  is  too  gross  for 
them  to  swallow.  Nature  has  hardly  formed  a  woman 
ugly  enough  to  be  insensible  to  flattery  upon  her  person ; 
if  her  face  is  so  shocking,  that  she  must  in  some  degree, 
be  conscious  of  it,  her  figure  and  her  air,  she  trusts,  make 
ample  amends  for  it.  If  her  figure  is  deformed,  her  face, 
she  thinks,  counterbalances  it.  If  they  are  both  bad,  she 
comforts  herself  that  she  has  graces;  a  certain  manner;  a 
je  ne  sais  guoi,  still  more  engaging  than  beauty.  This 
truth  is  evident,  from  the  studied  and  elaborate  dress  of 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  29 

the  ugliest  women  in  the  world.  An  undoubted,  uncon- 
tested,  conscious  beauty,  is  of  all  women,  the  least  sensible 
of  flattery  upon  that  head;  she  knows  that  it  is  her  due, 
and  is  therefore  obliged  to  nobody  for  giving  it  her.  She 
must  be  flattered  upon  her  understanding;  which,  though 
she  may  possibly  not  doubt  of  herself,  yet  she  suspects  that 
men  may  distrust. 

Do  not  mistake  me,  and  think  that  I  mean  to  recom- 
mend to  you  abject  and  criminal  flattery :  no ;  flatter  no- 
body's vices  or  crimes:  on  the  contrary,  abhor  and  discourage 
them.  But  there  is  no  living  in  the  world  without  a  com- 
plaisant indulgence  for  people's  weaknesses,  and  innocent, 
though  ridiculous  vanities.  If  a  man  has  a  mind  to  be 
thought  wiser,  and  a  woman  handsomer  than  they  really 
are,  their  error  is  a  comfortable  one  to  themselves,  and  an 
innocent  one  with  regard  to  other  people;  and  I  would 
rather  make  them  my  friends,  by  indulging  them  in  it, 
than  my  enemies,  by  endeavoring  (and  that  to  no  purpose) 
to  undeceive  them. 

There  are  little  attentions  likewise,  which  are  infinitely 
engaging,  and  which  sensibly  affect  that  degree  of  pride 
and  self-love,  which  is  inseparable  from  human  nature;  as 
they  are  unquestionable  proofs  of  the  regard  and  considera- 
tion which  we  have  for  the  person  to  whom  we  pay  them. 
As,  for  example,  to  observe  the  little  habits,  the  likings, 
the  antipathies,  and  the  tastes  of  those  whom  we  would 
gain ;  and  then  take  care  to  provide  them  with  the  one, 
and  to  secure  them  from  the  other;  giving  them,  genteelly, 
to  understand,  that  you  had  observed  that  they  liked  such 
a  dish,  or  such  a  room;  for  which  reason  you  had  prepared 
it :  or,  on  the  contrary,  that  having  observed  they  had  an  aver- 
sion to  such  a  dish,  a  dislike  to  such  a  person,  etc.,  you 
had  taken  care  to  avoid  presenting  them.  Such  attention  to 
such  trifles  flatters  self-love  much  more  than  greater  things, 
as  it  makes  people  think  themselves  almost  the  only  objects 
of  your  thoughts  and  care. 

These  are  some  of  the  arcana  necessary  for  your  initia- 
tion in  the  great  society  of  the  world.  I  wish  I  had  known 
them  better  at  your  age ;  I  have  paid  the  price  of  three- 
and-fifty  years  for  them,  and  shall  not  grudge  it,  if  you 
reap  the  advantage.  Adieu. 


30  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER    XVIII 

LONDON,  October  30,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  am  very  well  pleased  with  your  Itiner- 
arium,  which  you  sent  me  from  Ratisbon.  It  shows 
me  that  you  observe  and  inquire  as  you  go,  which  is 
the  true  end  of  traveling.  Those  who  travel  heedlessly 
from  place  to  place,  observing  only  their  distance  from  each 
other,  and  attending  only  to  their  accommodation  at  the 
inn  at  night,  set  out  fools,  and  will  certainly  return  so. 
Those  who  only  mind  the  raree-shows  of  the  places  which 
they  go  through,  such  as  steeples,  clocks,  town-houses,  etc., 
get  so  little  by  their  travels,  that  they  might  as  well  stay 
at  home.  But  those  who  observe,  and  inquire  into  the 
situations,  the  strength,  the  weakness,  the  trade,  the  manu- 
factures, the  government,  and  constitution  of  every  place 
they  go  to ;  who  frequent  the  best  companies,  and  attend 
to  their  several  manners  and  characters;  those  alone  travel 
with  advantage;  and  as  they  set  out  wise,  return  wiser. 

I  would  advise  you  always  to  get  the  shortest  description 
or  history  of  every  place  where  you  make  any  stay;  and 
such  a  book,  however  imperfect,  will  still  suggest  to  you 
matter  for  inquiry;  upon  which  you  may  get  better  infor- 
mations from  the  people  of  the  place.  For  example ;  while 
you  are  at  Leipsig,  get  some  short  account  (and  to  be  sure 
there  are  many  such)  of  the  present  state  of  the  town,  with 
regard  to  its  magistrates,  its  police,  its  privileges,  etc.,  and 
then  inform  yourself  more  minutely  upon  all  those  heads  in 
conversation  with  the  most  intelligent  people.  Do  the  same 
thing  afterward  with  regard  to  the  Electorate  of  Saxony : 
you  will  find  a  short  history  of  it  in  Puffendorf's  Intro- 
duction, which  will  give  you  a  general  idea  of  it,  and  point 
out  to  you  the  proper  objects  of  a  more  minute  inquiry. 
In  short,  be  curious,  attentive,  inquisitive,  as  to  everything ; 
listlessness  and  indolence  are  always  blameable,  but,  at  your 
age,  they  are  unpardonable.  Consider  how  precious,  and 
how  important  for  all  the  rest  of  your  life,  are  your  moments 
for  these  next  three  or  four  years;  and  do  not  lose  one  of 
them.  Do  not  think  I  mean  that  you  should  study  all  day 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  31 

long;  I  am  far  from  advising  or  desiring  it :  but  I  desire 
that  you  would  be  doing  something  or  other  all  day  long ; 
and  not  neglect  half  hours  and  quarters  of  hours,  which,  at 
the  year's  end,  amount  to  a  great  sum.  For  instance,  there 
are  many  short  intervals  during  the  day,  between  studies 
and  pleasures :  instead  of  sitting  idle  and  yawning,  in  those 
intervals,  take  up  any  book,  though  ever  so  trifling  a  one, 
even  down  to  a  jest-book ;  it  is  still  better  than  doing 
nothing. 

Nor  do  I  call  pleasures  idleness,  or  time  lost,  provided 
they  are  the  pleasures  of  a  rational  being ;  on  the  contrary, 
a  certain  portion  of  your  time,  employed  in  those  pleasures, 
is  very  usefully  employed.  Such  are  public  spectacles, 
assemblies  of  good  company,  cheerful  suppers,  and  even  balls ; 
but  then,  these  require  attention,  or  else  your  time  is  quite 
lost. 

There  are  a  great  many  people,  who  think  themselves 
employed  all  day,  and  who,  if  they  were  to  cast  up  their 
accounts  at  night,  would  find  that  they  had  done  just  noth- 
ing. They  have  read  two  or  three  hours  mechanically, 
without  attending  to  what  they  read,  and  consequently  with- 
out either  retaining  it,  or  reasoning  upon  it.  From  thence 
they  saunter  into  company,  without  taking  any  part  in  it, 
and  without  observing  the  characters  of  the  persons,  or  the 
subjects  of  the  conversation;  but  are  either  thinking  of  some 
trifle,  foreign  to  the  present  purpose,  or  often  not  thinking 
at  all ;  which  silly  and  idle  suspension  of  thought  they^ would 
dignify  with  the  name  of  ABSENCE  and  DISTRACTION.  They 
go  afterward,  it  may  be,  to  the  play,  where  they  gape  at  the 
company  and  the  lights ;  but  without  minding  the  very- 
thing  they  went  to,  the  play. 

Pray  do  you  be  as  attentive  to  your  pleasures  as  to  your 
studies.  In  the  latter,  observe  and  reflect  upon  all  you  read; 
and,  in  the  former,  be  watchful  and  attentive  to  all  that  you 
see  and  hear ;  and  never  have  it  to  say,  as  a  thousand  fools 
do,  of  things  that  were  said  and  done  before  their  faces, 
that,  truly,  they  did  not  mind  them,  because  they  were  think- 
ing of  something  else.  Why  were  they  thinking  of  some- 
thing else?  and  if  they  were,  why  did  they  come  there? 
The  truth  is,  that  the  fools  were  thinking  of  nothing.  Re- 
member the  hoc  age,  do  what  you  are  about,  be  what  it  will; 


32  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

it  is  either  worth  doing  well,  or  not  at  all.  Wherever  you 
are,  have  (as  the  low  vulgar  expression  is)  your  ears  and 
your  eyes  about  you.  Listen  to  everything  that  is  said,  and 
see  everything  that  is  done.  Observe  the  looks  and  coun- 
tenances of  those  who  speak,  which  is  often  a  surer  way  of 
discovering  the  truth  than  from  what  they  say.  But  then 
keep  all  those  observations  to  yourself,  for  your  own  private 
use,  and  rarely  communicate  them  to  others.  Observe,  with- 
out being  thought  an  observer,  for  otherwise  people  will  be 
upon  their  guard  before  you. 

Consider  seriously,  and  follow  carefully,  I  beseech  you,  my 
dear  child,  the  advice  which  from  time  to  time  I  have  given, 
and  shall  continue  to  give  you;  it  is  at  once  the  result  of 
my  long  experience,  and  the  effect  of  my  tenderness  for  you. 
I  can  have  no  interest  in  it  but  yours.  You  are  not  yet 
capable  of  wishing  yourself  half  so  well  as  I  wish  you;  fol- 
low therefore,  for  a  time  at  least,  implicitly,  advice  which 
you  cannot  suspect,  though  possibly  you  may  not  yet  see  the 
particular  advantages  of  it;  but  you  will  one  day  feel  them. 
Adieu. 


LETTER   XIX 

LONDON,  November  6,  O.  S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY  :  Three  mails  are  now  due  from  Holland,  so 
that  I  have  no  letter  from  you  to  acknowledge ;  I 
write  to  you,  therefore,  now,  as  usual,  by  way  of  flap- 
per, to  put  you  in  mind  of  yourself.  Doctor  Swift,  in  his 
account  of  the  island  of  Laputa,  describes  some  philosophers 
there  who  were  so  wrapped  up  and  absorbed  in  their  abstruse 
speculations,  that  they  would  have  forgotten  all  the  common 
and  necessary  duties  of  life,  if  they  had  not  been  reminded 
of  them  by  persons  who  flapped  them,  whenever  they 
observed  them  continue  too  long  in  any  of  those  learned 
trances.  I  do  not  indeed  suspect  you  of  being  absorbed  in 
abstruse  speculations;  but,  with  great  submission  to  you, 
may  I  not  suspect  that  levity,  inattention,  and  too  little 
thinking,  require  a  flapper,  as  well  as  too  deep  thinking? 
If  my  letters  should  happen  to  get  to  you  when  you  are 
sitting  by  the  fire  and  doing  nothing,  or  when  you  are  gap- 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  33 

ing  at  the  window,  may  they  not  be  very  proper  flaps,  to 
put  you  in  mind  that  you  might  employ  your  time  much 
better?  I  knew  once  a  very  covetous,  sordid  fellow,  who 
used  frequently  to  say,  <(  Take  care  of  the  pence ;  for  the 
pounds  will  take  care  of  themselves.*  This  was  a  just  and 
sensible  reflection  in  a  miser.  I  recommend  to  you  to  take 
care  of  the  minutes ;  for  hours  will  take  care  of  themselves. 
I  am  very  sure,  that  many  people  lose  two  or  three  hours 
every  day,  by  not  taking  care  of  the  minutes.  Never 
think  any  portion  of  time  whatsoever  too  short  to  be 
employed ;  something  or  other  may  always  be  done  in  it. 

While  you  are  in  Germany,  let  all  your  historical  studies 
be  relative  to  Germany;  not  only  the  general  history  of 
the  empire  as  a  collective  body ;  but  the  respective  elec- 
torates, principalities,  and  towns ;  and  also  the  genealogy  of 
the  most  considerable  families.  A  genealogy  is  no  trifle  in 
Germany;  and  they  would  rather  prove  their  two-and-thirty 
quarters,  than  two-and-thirty  cardinal  virtues,  if  there  were 
so  many.  They  are  not  of  Ulysses'  opinion,  who  says  very 

truly, 

Genus  et  froavos,  et  quce  non  fecimus  if  si; 

Vix  ea  nostra  voco. 

Good  night. 


LETTER  XX 

LONDON,  November  24,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY  :  As  often  as  I  write    to  you  (and   that    you 
know  is  pretty  often),  so  often  I  am  in  doubt  whether 
it    is  to    any  purpose,  and    whether   it    is    not    labor 
and  paper  lost.     This  entirely  depends    upon  the  degree  of 
reason    and   reflection    which   you    are    master   of,  or   think 
proper  to  exert.     If  you  give    yourself    time   to    think,  and 
have    sense    enough    to    think    right,  two    reflections    must 
necessarily  occur  to  you;  the  one  is,  that  I  have  a  great  deal 
of  experience,  and  that  you  have  none:  the  other  is,  that  I 
am  the  only  man  living  who  cannot  have,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, any  interest    concerning   you,  but  your  own.     From 
which  two  undeniable  principles,  the  obvious  and  necessary 
conclusion  is,  that  you  ought,  for  your  own  sake,  to  attend 
to  and  follow  my  advice. 
3 


34  LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S 

If,  by  the  application  which  I  recommend  to  you,  you 
acquire  great  knowledge,  you  alone  are  the  gainer;  I  pay 
for  it.  If  you  should  deserve  either  a  good  or  a  bad  char- 
acter, mine  will  be  exactly  what  it  is  now,  and  will  neither 
be  the  better  in  the  first  case,  nor  worse  in  the  latter.  You 
alone  will  be  the  gainer  or  the  loser. 

Whatever  your  pleasures  may  be,  I  neither  can  nor  shall 
envy  you  them,  as  old  people  are  sometimes  suspected  by 
young  people  to  do;  and  I  shall  only  lament,  if  they  should 
prove  such  as  are  unbecoming  a  man  of  honor,  or  below  a 
man  of  sense.  But  you  will  be  the  real  sufferer,  if  they 
are  such.  As  therefore,  it  is  plain  that  I  can  have  no  other 
motive  than  that  of  affection  in  whatever  I  say  to  you,  you 
ought  to  look  upon  me  as  your  best,  and,  for  some  years 
to  come,  your  only  friend. 

True  friendship  requires  certain  proportions  of  age  and 
manners,  and  can  never  subsist  where  they  are  extremely 
different,  except  in  the  relations  of  parent  and  child,  where 
affection  on  one  side,  and  regard  on  the  other,  make  up 
the  difference.  The  friendship  which  you  may  contract 
with  people  of  your  own  age  may  be  sincere,  may  be 
warm;  but  must  be,  for  some  time,  reciprocally  unprofitable, 
as  there  can  be  no  experience  on  either  side.  The  young 
leading  the  young,  is  like  the  blind  leading  the  blind; 
"  they  will  both  fall  into  the  ditch.8  The  only  sure  guide 
is,  he  who  has  often  gone  the  road  which  you  want  to  go. 
Let  me  be  that  guide ;  who  have  gone  all  roads,  and  who 
can  consequently  point  out  to  you  the  best.  If  you  ask 
me  why  I  went  any  of  the  bad  roads  myself,  I  will  answer 
you  very  truly,  That  it  was  for  want  of  a  good  guide : 
ill  example  invited  me  one  way,  and  a  good  guide  was 
wanting  to  show  me  a  better.  But  if  anybody,  capable  of 
advising  me,  had  taken  the  same  pains  with  me,  which  I 
have  taken,  and  will  continue  to  take  with  you,  I  should 
have  avoided  many  follies  and  inconveniences,  which  undi- 
rected youth  run  me  into.  My  father  was  neither  desirous 
nor  able  to  advise  me;  which  is  what,  I  hope,  you  cannot 
say  of  yours.  You  see  that  I  make  use  only  of  the  word 
advice;  because  I  would  much  rather  have  the  assent  of 
your  reason  to  my  advice,  than  the  submission  of  your  will 
to  my  authority.  This,  I  persuade  myself,  will  happen, 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  35 

from  that  degree  of  sense  which  I  think  you  have;  and 
therefore  I  will  go  on  advising,  and  with  hopes  of  suc- 
cess. 

You  are  now  settled  for  some  time  at  Leipsig;  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  your  stay  there  is  the  knowledge  of  books 
and  sciences ;  which  if  you  do  not,  by  attention  and  appli- 
cation, make  yourself  master  of  while  you  are  there,  you 
will  be  ignorant  of  them  all  the  rest  of  your  life;  and, 
take  my  word  for  it,  a  life  of  ignorance  is  not  only  a  very 
contemptible,  but  a  very  tiresome  one.  Redouble  your  at- 
tention, then,  to  Mr.  Harte,  in  your  private  studies  of  the 
Litera  Humaniores,  especially  Greek.  State  your  difficul- 
ties, whenever  you  have  any ;  and  do  not  suppress  them, 
either  from  mistaken  shame,  lazy  indifference,  or  in  order 
to  have  done  the  sooner.  Do  the  same  when  you  are  at 
lectures  with  Professor  Mascow,  or  any  other  professor; 
let  nothing  pass  till  you  are  sure  that  you  understand  it 
thoroughly ;  and  accustom  yourself  to  write  down  the  capital 
points  of  what  you  learn.  When  you  have  thus  usefully 
employed  your  mornings,  you  may,  with  a  safe  conscience, 
divert  yourself  in  the  evenings,  and  make  those  evenings 
very  useful  too,  by  passing  them  in  good  company,  and, 
by  observation  and  attention,  learning  as  much  of  the  world 
as  Leipsig  can  teach  you.  You  will  observe  and  imitate 
the  manners  of  the  people  of  the  best  fashion  there ;  not 
that  they  are  (it  may  be)  the  best  manners  in  the  world; 
but  because  they  are  the  best  manners  of  the  place  where 
you  are,  to  which  a  man  of  sense  always  conforms.  The 
nature  of  things  (as  I  have  often  told  you)  is  always  and 
everywhere  the  same ;  but  the  modes  of  them  vary  more  or 
less,  in  every  country;  and  an  easy  and  genteel  conformity 
to  them,  or  rather  the  assuming  of  them  at  proper  times, 
and  in  proper  places,  is  what  particularly  constitutes  a  man 
of  the  world,  and  a  well-bred  man. 

Here  is  advice  enough,  I  think,  and  too  much,  it  may 
be,  you  will  think,  for  one  letter;  if  you  follow  it,  you  will 
get  knowledge,  character,  and  pleasure  by  it;  if  you  do  not, 
I  only  lose  operam  et  oleum,  which,  in  all  events,  I  do  not 
grudge  you. 

I  send  you,  by  a  person  who  sets  out  this  day  for  Leip- 
sig, a  small  packet  from  your  Mamma,  containing  some 


36  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

valuable  things  which  you  left  behind,  to  which  I  have 
added,  by  way  of  new-year's  gift,  a  very  pretty  tooth-pick 
case;  and,  by  the  way,  pray  take  great  care  of  your  teeth, 
and  keep  them  extremely  clean.  I  have  likewise  sent  you 
the  Greek  roots,  lately  translated  into  English  from  the 
French  of  the  Port  Royal.  Inform  yourself  what  the  Port 
Royal  is.  To  conclude  with  a  quibble :  I  hope  you  will  not 
only  feed  upon  these  Greek  roots,  but  likewise  digest  them 
perfectly.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XXI 

LONDON,  December  u,  O.  S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY  :  There  is  nothing  which  I  more  wish  that 
you  should  know,  and  which  fewer  people  do  know, 
than  the  true  use  and  value  of  time.  It  is  in  every- 
body's mouth ;  but  in  few  people's  practice.  Every  fool, 
who  slatterns  away  his  whole  time  in  nothings,  utters,  how- 
ever, some  trite  commonplace  sentence,  of  which  there  are 
millions,  to  prove,  at  once,  the  value  and  the  fleetness  of 
time.  The  sun-dials,  likewise  all  over  Europe,  have  some 
ingenious  inscription  to  that  effect ;  so  that  nobody  squanders 
away  their  time,  without  hearing  and  seeing,  daily,  how 
necessary  it  is  to  employ  it  well,  and  how  irrecoverable  it 
19  if  lost.  But  all  these  admonitions  are  useless,  where 
there  is  not  a  fund  of  good  sense  and  reason  to  suggest 
them,  rather  than  receive  them.  By  the  manner  in  which 
you  now  tell  me  that  you  employ  your  time,  I  flatter  my- 
self that  you  have  that  fund ;  that  is  the  fund  which  will 
make  you  rich  indeed.  I  do  not,  therefore,  mean  to  give 
you  a  critical  essay  upon  the  use  and  abuse  of  time ;  but  I 
will  only  give  you  some  hints  with  regard  to  the  use  of 
one  particular  period  of  that  long  time  which,  I  hope,  you 
have  before  you ;  I  mean,  the  next  two  years.  Remember, 
then,  that  whatever  knowledge  you  do  not  solidly  lay  the 
foundation  of  before  you  are  eighteen,  you  will  never  be 
the  master  of  while  you  breathe.  Knowledge  is  a  comfort- 
able and  necessary  retreat  and  shelter  for  us  in  an  advanced 
age ;  and  if  we  do  not  plant  it  while  young,  it  will  give 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  37 

us  no  shade  when  we  grow  old.  I  neither  require  nor 
expect  from  you  great  application  to  books,  after  you  are 
once  thrown  out  into  the  great  world.  I  know  it  is  im- 
possible; and  it  may  even,  in  some  cases,  be  improper; 
this,  therefore,  is  your  time,  and  your  only  time,  for  un- 
wearied and  uninterrupted  application.  If  you  should 
sometimes  think  it  a  little  laborious,  consider  that  labor  is 
the  unavoidable  fatigue  of  a  necessary  journey.  The  more 
hours  a  day  you  travel,  the  sooner  you  will  be  at  your 
journey's  end.  The  sooner  you  are  qualified  for  your 
liberty,  the  sooner  you  shall  have  it;  and  your  manumis- 
sion will  entirely  depend  upon  the  manner  in  which  you 
employ  the  intermediate  time.  I  think  I  offer  you  a  very 
good  bargain,  when  I  promise  you,  upon  my  word,  that  if 
you  will  do  everything  that  I  would  have  you  do,  till  you 
are  eighteen,  I  will  do  everything  that  you  would  have 
me  do  ever  afterward. 

I  knew  a  gentleman,  who  was  so  good  a  manager  of  his 
time,  that  he  would  not  even  lose  that  small  portion  of  it, 
which  the  calls  of  nature  obliged  him  to  pass  in  the 
necessary-house;  but  gradually  went  through  all  the  Latin 
poets,  in  those  moments.  He  bought,  for  example,  a  com- 
mon edition  of  Horace,  of  which  he  tore  off  gradually  a 
couple  of  pages,  carried  them  with  him  to  that  necessary 
place,  read  them  first,  and  then  sent  them  down  as  a  sac- 
rifice to  Cloacina:  this  was  so  much  time  fairly  gained; 
and  I  recommend  you  to  follow  his  example.  It  is  better 
than  only  doing  what  you  cannot  help  doing  at  those  moments; 
and  it  will  made  any  book,  which  you  shall  read  in  that 
manner,  very  present  in  your  mind.  Books  of  science, 
and  of  a  grave  sort,  must  be  read  with  continuity;  but 
there  are  very  many,  and  even  very  useful  ones,  which 
may  be  read  with  advantage  by  snatches,  and  unconnectedly ; 
such  are  all  the  good  Latin  poets,  except  Virgil  in  his 
"yEneid"  :  and  such  are  most  of  the  modern  poets,  in  which 
you  will  find  many  pieces  worth  reading,  that  will  not 
take  up  above  seven  or  eight  minutes.  Bayle's,  Moreri's, 
and  other  dictionaries,  are  proper  books  to  take  and  shut 
up  for  the  little  intervals  of  (otherwise)  idle  time,  that 
everybody  has  in  the  course  of  the  day,  between  either 
their  studies  or  their  pleasures.  Good  night. 


38  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER   XXII 

LONDON,  December  18,  O.  S.   1747. 

DEAR  BOY:  As  two  mails  are  now  due  from  Holland, 
I  have  no  letters  of  yours  or  Mr.  Harte's  to  acknowl- 
edge; so  that  this  letter  is  the  effect  of  that  scribendi 
cacoethes,  which  my  fears,  my  hopes,  and  my  doubts,  con- 
cerning you  give  me.  When  I  have  wrote  you  a  very  long 
letter  upon  any  subject,  it  is  no  sooner  gone,  but  I  think  I 
have  omitted  something  in  it,  which  might  be  of  use  to 
you ;  and  then  I  prepare  the  supplement  for  the  next  post : 
or  else  some  new  subject  occurs  to  me,  upon  which  I  fancy 
I  can  give  you  some  informations,  or  point  out  some  rules 
which  may  be  advantageous  to  you.  This  sets  me  to  writ- 
ing again,  though  God  knows  whether  to  any  purpose  or 
not;  a  few  years  more  can  only  ascertain  that.  But,  what- 
ever my  success  may  be,  my  anxiety  and  my  care  can  only 
be  the  effects  of  that  tender  affection  which  I  have  for  you; 
and  which  you  cannot  represent  to  yourself  greater  than 
it  really  is.  But  do  not  mistake  the  nature  of  that  affec- 
tion, and  think  it  of  a  kind  that  you  may  with  impunity 
abuse.  It  is  not  natural  affection,  there  being  in  reality 
no  such  thing;  for,  if  there  were,  some  inward  sentiment 
must  necessarily  and  reciprocally  discover  the  parent  to  the 
child,  and  the  child  to  the  parent,  without  any  exterior 
indications,  knowledge,  or  acquaintance  whatsoever;  which 
never  happened  since  the  creation  of  the  world,  whatever 
poets,  romance,  and  novel  writers,  and  such  sentiment- 
mongers,  may  be  pleased  to  say  to  the  contrary.  Neither 
is  my  affection  for  you  that  of  a  mother,  of  which  the  only, 
or  at  least  the  chief  objects,  are  health  and  life :  I  wish 
you  them  both  most  heartily;  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  con- 
fess they  are  by  no  means  my  principal  care. 

My  object  is  to  have  you  fit  to  live ;  which,  if  you  are 
not,  I  do  not  desire  that  you  should  live  at  all.  My 
affection  for  you  then  is,  and  only  will  be,  proportioned 
to  your  merit;  which  is  the  only  affection  that  one  rational 
being  ought  to  have  for  another.  Hitherto  I  have  discovered 
nothing  wrong  in  your  heart,  or  your  head:  on  the  contrary 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  39 

I  think  I  see  sense  in  the  one,  and  sentiments  in  the  other. 
This  persuasion  is  the  only  motive  of  my  present  affection; 
which  will  either  increase  or  diminish,  according  to  your 
merit  or  demerit.  If  you  have  the  knowledge,  the  honor, 
and  probity,  which  you  may  have,  the  marks  and  warmth 
of  my  affection  shall  amply  reward  them ;  but  if  you  have 
them  not,  my  aversion  and  indignation  will  rise  in  the 
same  proportion ;  and,  in  that  case,  remember,  that  I  am 
under  no  further  obligation,  than  to  give  you  the  necessary 
means  of  subsisting.  If  ever  we  quarrel,  do  not  expect  or 
depend  upon  any  weakness  in  my  nature,  for  a  reconcilia- 
tion, as  children  frequently  do,  and  often  meet  with,  from 
silly  parents ;  I  have  no  such  weakness  about  me :  and,  as 
I  will  never  quarrel  with  you  but  upon  some  essential  point ; 
if  once  we  quarrel,  I  will  never  forgive.  But  I  hope  and 
believe,  that  this  declaration  (for  it  is  no  threat)  will  prove 
unnecessary.  You  are  no  stranger  to  the  principles  of 
virtue;  and,  surely,  whoever  knows  virtue  must  love  it. 
As  for  knowledge,  you  have  already  enough  of  it,  to  en- 
gage you  to  acquire  more.  The  ignorant  only,  either  de- 
spise it,  or  think  that  they  have  enough:  those  who  have 
the  most  are  always  the  most  desirous  to  have  more,  and 
know  that  the  most  they  can  have  is,  alas!  but  too  little. 
Reconsider,  from  time  to  time,  and  retain  the  friendly 
advice  which  I  send  you.  The  advantage  will  be  all  your 
own. 


LETTER   XXIII 

LONDON,  December  29,  O.  S.  1747. 

DEAR  BOY  :     I  have  received    two    letters    from    you    of 
the    i7th    and    22d,    N.  S.,    by   the  last  of    which    I 
find  that  some  of  mine  to  you  must  have  miscarried ; 
for  I  have  never  been  above  two  posts  without    writing  to 
you   or   to   Mr.  Harte,  and  even  very  long  letters.     I  have 
also    received    a    letter    from    Mr.    Harte,    which    gives  me 
great  satisfaction :    it  is  full    of  your  praises ;     and    he    an- 
swers   for   you,    that,    in  two  years  more,  you  will  deserve 
your  manumission,  and  be  fit  to  go    into    the    world,    upon 
a  footing  that  will  do  you  honor,  and  give  me  pleasure. 


40  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

I  thank  you  for  your  offer  of  the  new  edition  of  Ada- 
mus  Adami,  but  I  do  not  want  it,  having  a  good  edition 
of  it  at  present.  When  you  have  read  that,  you  will  do 
well  to  follow  it  with  Pere  Bougeant's  Histoire  du  Traitd 
de  Munster,  in  two  volumes  quarto ;  which  contains  many 
important  anecdotes  concerning  that  famous  treaty,  that  are 
not  in  Adamus  Adami. 

You  tell  me  that  your  lectures  upon  the  Jus  Publicum 
will  be  ended  at  Easter;  but  then  I  hope  that  Monsieur 
Masco w  will  begin  them  again;  for  I  would  not  have  you 
discontinue  that  study  one  day  while  you  are  at  Leipsig. 
I  suppose  that  Monsieur  Mascow  will  likewise  give  you 
lectures  upon  the  Instrumentum  jPacis,  and  upon  the  capit- 
ulations of  the  late  emperors. —  Your  German  will  go  on 
of  course;  and  I  take  it  for  granted  that  your  stay  at  Leip- 
sig will  make  you  a  perfect  master  of  that  language,  both 
as  to  speaking  and  writing;  for  remember,  that  knowing 
any  language  imperfectly,  is  very  little  better  than  not 
knowing  it  at  all :  people  being  as  unwilling  to  speak  in  a 
language  which  they  do  not  possess  thoroughly,  as  others 
are  to  hear  them.  Your  thoughts  are  cramped,  and  appear 
to  great  disadvantage,  in  any  language  of  which  you  are 
not  perfect  master.  Let  modern  history  share  part  of  your 
time,  and  that  always  accompanied  with  the  maps  of  the 
places  in  question;  geography  and  history  are  very  imper- 
fect separately,  and,  to  be  useful,  must  be  joined. 

Go  to  the  Duchess  of  Courland's  as  often  as  she  and 
your  leisure  will  permit.  The  company  of  women  of  fash- 
ion will  improve  your  manners,  though  not  your  under- 
standing; and  that  complaisance  and  politeness,  which  are 
so  useful  in  men's  company,  can  only  be  acquired  in  wo- 
men's. 

Remember  always,  what  I  have  told  you  a  thousand 
times,  that  all  the  talents  in  the  world  will  want  all  their 
lustre,  and  some  part  of  their  use  too,  if  they  are  not 
adorned  with  that  easy  good-breeding,  that  engaging  man- 
ner, and  those  graces,  which  seduce  and  prepossess  people 
in  your  favor  at  first  sight.  A  proper  care  of  your  person 
is  by  no  means  to  be  neglected ;  always  extremely  clean ; 
upon  proper  occasions  fine.  Your  carriage  genteel,  and 
your  motions  graceful.  Take  particular  care  of  your  man- 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  41 

ner  and  address,  when  you  present  yourself  in  company. 
Let  them  be  respectful  without  meanness,  easy  without  too 
much  familiarity,  genteel  without  affectation,  and  insinuat- 
ing without  any  seeming  art  or  design. 

You  need  not  send  me  any  more  extracts  of  the  German 
constitution ;  which,  by  the  course  of  your  present  studies, 
I  know  you  must  soon  be  acquainted  with;  but  I  would 
now  rather  that  your  letters  should  be  a  sort  of  journal  of 
your  own  life.  As,  for  instance,  what  company  you  keep, 
what  new  acquaintances  you  make,  what  your  pleasures 
are ;  with  your  own  reflections  upon  the  whole  :  likewise 
what  Greek  and  Latin  books  you  read  and  understand. 
Adieu ! 


LETTER   XXIV 

January  2,  O.  S.   1748. 

DBAR  BOY  :     I  am   edified    with    the    allotment    of    your 
time    at    Leipsig;    which    is   so    well    employed  from 
morning   till    night,  that  a  fool    would    say   you    had 
none  left  for  yourself;    whereas,  I  am  sure  you  have  sense 
enough  to  know,  that  such  a  right  use  of  your  time  is  hav- 
ing it  all  to  yourself;    nay,  it  is  even  more,  for   it    is    lay- 
ing it  out  to  immense  interest,  which,  in  a  very  few  years, 
will  amount  to  a  prodigious  capital. 

Though  twelve  of  your  fourteen  Commensaux  may  not 
be  the  liveliest  people  in  the  world,  and  may  want  (as  I 
easily  conceive  that  they  do)  le  ton  de  la  bonne  campagnie, 
et  les  graces,  which  I  wish  you,  yet  pray  take  care  not  to- 
express  any  contempt,  or  throw  out  any  ridicule;  which  I 
can  assure  you,  is  not  more  contrary  to  good  manners  than 
to  good  sense:  but  endeavor  rather  to  get  all  the  good  you 
can  out  of  them ;  and  something  or  other  is  to  be  got  out 
of  everybody.  They  will,  at  least,  improve  you  in  the 
German  language;  and,  as  they  come  from  different  coun- 
tries, you  may  put  them  upon  subjects,  concerning  which 
they  must  necessarily  be  able  to  give  you  some  useful  in- 
formations, let  them  be  ever  so  dull  or  disagreeable  in  gen- 
eral: they  will  know  something,  at  least,  of  the  lawsr 


42  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

customs,  government,  and  considerable  families  of  their  re- 
spective countries ;  all  which  are  better  known  than  not, 
and  consequently  worth  inquiring  into.  There  is  hardly 
any  body  good  for  every  thing,  and  there  is  scarcely  any 
body  who  is  absolutely  good  for  nothing.  A  good  chemist 
will  extract  some  spirit  or  other  out  of  every  substance; 
and  a  man  of  parts  will,  by  his  dexterity  and  management, 
elicit  something  worth  knowing  out  of  every  being  he  con- 
verses with. 

As  you  have  been  introduced  to  the  Duchess  of  Cour- 
land,  pray  go  there  as  often  as  ever  your  more  necessary 
occupations  will  allow  you.  I  am  told  she  is  extremely 
well  bred,  and  has  parts.  Now,  though  I  would  not  rec- 
ommend to  you,  to  go  into  women's  company  in  search  of 
solid  knowledge,  or  judgment,  yet  it  has  its  use  in  other 
respects ;  for  it  certainly  polishes  the  manners,  and  gives 
une  certaine  tournure,  which  is  very  necessary  in  the  course 
of  the  world;  and  which  Englishmen  have  generally  less 
of  than  any  people  in  the  world. 

I  cannot  say  that  your  suppers  are  luxurious,  but  you 
must  own  they  are  solid;  and  a  quart  of  soup,  and  two 
pounds  of  potatoes,  will  enable  you  to  pass  the  night  with- 
out great  impatience  for  your  breakfast  next  morning. 
One  part  of  your  supper  (the  potatoes)  is  the  constant  diet 
of  my  old  friends  and  countrymen,*  the  Irish,  who  are  the 
healthiest  and  the  strongest  bodies  of  men  that  I  know  in 
Europe. 

As  I  believe  that  many  of  my  letters  to  you  and  to  Mr. 
Harte  have  miscarried,  as  well  as  some  of  yours  and  his  to 
me;  particularly  one  of  his  from  Leipsig,  to  which  he  re- 
fers in  a  subsequent  one,  and  which  I  never  received;  I 
would  have  you,  for  the  future,  acknowledge  the  dates  of 
all  the  letters  which  either  of  you  shall  receive  from  me; 
and  I  will  do  the  same  on  my  part. 

That  which  I  received  by  the  last  mail,  from  you,  was 
of  the  25th  November,  N.  S. ;  the  mail  before  that  brought 
me  yours,  of  which  I  have  forgot  the  date,  but  which  in- 
closed one  to  Lady  Chesterfield :  she  will  answer  it  soon, 
and,  in  the  mean  time,  thanks  you  for  it. 

•Lord  Chesterfield,  from  the  time  he  was  appointed  Lord-lieutenant 
of  Ireland,  1715,  used  always  to  call  the  Irish  his  countrymen. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  43 

My  disorder  was  only  a  very  great  cold,  of  which  I  am 
entirely  recovered.  You  shall  not  complain  for  want  of 
accounts  from  Mr.  Grevenkop,  who  will  frequently  write 
you  whatever  passes  here,  in  the  German  language  and 
character;  which  will  improve  you  in  both.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XXV 

LONDON,  January  15,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  willingly  accept  the  new-year's  gift  which 
you  promise  me  for  next  year;    and    the    more    valu- 
able   you    make    it,    the    more    thankful    I    shall  be. 
That  depends  entirely  upon  you;    and    therefore    I   hope    to 
be  presented,  every  year,  with  a  new  edition  of  you,  more 
correct    than    the    former,    and   considerably   enlarged    and 
amended. 

Since  you  do  not  care  to  be  an  assessor  of  the  imperial 
chamber,  and  that  you  desire  an  establishment  in  England; 
what  do  you  think  of  being  Greek  Professor  at  one  of  our 
universities?  It  is  a  very  pretty  sinecure,  and  requires  very 
little  knowledge  (much  less  than,  I  hope,  you  have  already) 
of  that  language.  If  you  do  not  approve  of  this,  I  am  at 
a  loss  to  know  what  else  to  propose  to  you;  and  therefore 
desire  that  you  will  inform  me  what  sort  of  destination  you 
propose  for  yourself;  for  it  is  now  time  to  fix  it,  and  to 
take  our  measures  accordingly.  Mr.  Harte  tells  me  that  you 
set  up  for  a  IIohrtKo<t  avyp ;  if  so,  I  presume  it  is  in  the 
view  of  succeeding  me  in  my  office ;  *  which  I  will  very 
willingly  resign  to  you,  whenever  you  shall  call  upon  me 
for  it.  But,  if  you  intend  to  be  the  TTo^mo?,  or  the  Boutyyopos 
avr]p,  there  are  some  trifling  circumstances  upon  which  you 
should  previously  take  your  resolution.  The  first  of  which 
is,  to  be  fit  for  it :  and  then,  in  order  to  be  so,  make  your- 
self master  of  ancient  and  modern  history,  and  languages. 
To  know  perfectly  the  constitution,  and  form  of  govern- 
ment of  every  nation;  the  growth  and  the  decline  of  ancient 
and  modern  empires ;  and  to  trace  out  and  reflect  upon  the 
causes  of  both.  To  know  the  strength,  the  riches,  and  the 

*  A  secretary  of  state. 


44  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

commerce  of  every  country.  These  little  things,  trifling  as 
they  may  seem,  are  yet  very  necessary  for  a  politician  to 
know;  and  which  therefore,  I  presume,  you  will  condescend 
to  apply  yourself  to.  There  are  some  additional  qualifica- 
tions necessary,  in  the  practical  part  of  business,  which 
may  deserve  some  consideration  in  your  leisure  moments ; 
such  as,  an  absolute  command  of  your  temper,  so  as  not  to 
be  provoked  to  passion,  upon  any  account;  patience,  to 
hear  frivolous,  impertinent,  and  unreasonable  applications ; 
with  address  enough  to  refuse,  without  offending,  or,  by 
your  manner  of  granting,  to  double  the  obligation  ;  dexter- 
ity enough  to  conceal  a  truth  without  telling  a  lie ;  sagacitj 
enough  to  read  other  people's  countenances;  and  serenity 
enough  not  to  let  them  discover  anything  by  yours;  a 
seeming  frankness  with  a  real  reserve.  These  are  the  rudi- 
ments of  a  politician;  the  world  must  be  your  grammar. 

Three  mails  are  now  due  from  Holland;  so  that  I  have 
no  letters  from  you  to  acknowledge.  I  therefore  conclude 
with  recommending  myself  to  your  favor  and  protection 
when  you  succeed.  Yours. 


LETTER  XXVI 

LONDON,  January  29,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :     I    find,    by    Mr.    Harte's    last    letter,    that 
many  of  my  letters  to  you  and  him,  have  been  frozen 
up  on  their  way  to  Leipsig;    the    thaw    has,    I    sup- 
pose,   by    this    time,    set    them    at    liberty    to    pursue   their 
journey  to  you,  and  you    will    receive    a    glut   of    them    at 
once.     Iludibras  alludes,  in  this  verse, 

Like  words  congealed  in  northern  air, 

to  a  vulgar  notion,  that  in  Greenland  words  were  frozen  in 
their  utterance;  and  that  upon  a  thaw,  a  very  mixed  con- 
versation was  heard  in  the  air,  of  all  those  words  set  at 
liberty.  This  conversation  was,  I  presume,  too  various  and 
extensive  to  be  much  attended  to :  and  may  not  that  be  the 
case  of  half  a  dozen  of  my  long  letters,  when  you  receive 
them  all  at  once?  I  think  that  I  can  eventually,  answer 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  45 

that  question,  thus:  If  you  consider  my  letters  in  their 
true  light,  as  conveying  to  you  the  advice  of  a  friend,  who 
sincerely  wishes  your  happiness,  and  desires  to  promote 
your  pleasure,  you  will  both  read  and  attend  to  them ;  but, 
if  you  consider  them  in  their  opposite,  and  very  false  light, 
as  the  dictates  of  a  morose  and  sermonizing  father,  I  am 
sure  they  will  be  not  only  unattended  to,  but  unread. 
Which  is  the  case,  you  can  best  tell  me.  Advice  is  seldom 
welcome;  and  those  who  want  it  the  most  always  like  it 
the  least.  I  hope  that  your  want  of  experience,  of  which 
you  must  be  conscious,  will  convince  you,  that  you  want 
advice ;  and  that  your  good  sense  will  incline  you  to  fol- 
low it. 

Tell  me  how  you  pass  your  leisure  hours  at  Leipsig;  I 
know  you  have  not  many ;  and  I  have  too  good  an  opinion 
of  you  to  think,  that,  at  this  age,  you  would  desire  more. 
Have  you  assemblies,  or  public  spectacles?  and  of  what  kind 
are  they?  Whatever  they  are,  see  them  all;  seeing  every- 
thing, is  the  only  way  not  to  admire  anything  too  much. 

If  you  ever  take  up  little  tale-books,  to  amuse  you  by 
snatches,  I  will  recommend  two  French  books,  which  I 
have  already  mentioned;  they  will  entertain  you,  and  not 
without  some  use  to  your  mind  and  your  manners.  One  is, 
La  Mantere  de  bien  penser  dans  les  Outrages  d*  Esprit, 
written  by  PZre  Bouhours;  I  believe  you  read  it  once  in 
England,  with  Monsieur  Coderc  ;  but  I  think  that  you  will  do 
well  to  read  it  again,  as  I  know  of  no  book  that  will  form 
your  taste  better.  The  other  is,  L1  Art  de  plaire  dans  la 
Conversation,  by  the  Abb4  de  Bellegarde,  and  is  by  no  means 
useless,  though  I  will  not  pretend  to  say,  that  the  art  of 
pleasing  can  be  reduced  to  a  receipt ;  if  it  could,  I  am  sure 
that  receipt  would  be  worth  purchasing  at  any  price.  Good 
sense,  and  good  nature,  .are  the  principal  ingredients;  and 
your  own  observation,  and  the  good  advice  of  others,  must 
give  the  right  color  and  taste  to  it.  Adieu !  I  shall  always 
love  you  as  you  shall  deserve. 


46  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER    XXVII 

LONDON,  February  9,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  You  will  receive  this  letter,  not  from  a 
Secretary  of  State  but  from  a  private  man ;  for  whom, 
at  his  time  of  life,  quiet  was  as  fit,  and  as  neces- 
sary, as  labor  and  activity  are  for  you  at  your  age,  and  for 
many  years  yet  to  come.  I  resigned  the  seals,  last  Saturday, 
to  the  King;  who  parted  with  me  most  graciously,  and 
(I  may  add,  for  he  said  so  himself)  with  regret.  As  I 
retire  from  hurry  to  quiet,  and  to  enjoy,  at  my  ease,  the 
comforts  of  private  and  social  life,  you  will  easily  imagine 
that  I  have  no  thoughts  of  opposition,  or  meddling  with 
business.  Otium  cum  dignitate  is  my  object.  The  former 
I  now  enjoy;  and  I  hope  that  my  conduct  and  character 
entitle  me  to  some  share  of  the  latter.  In  short,  I  am  now 
happy  :  and  I  found  that  I  could  not  be  so  in  my  former 
public  situation. 

As  I  like  your  correspondence  better  than  that  of  all  the 
kings,  princes,  and  ministers,  in  Europe,  I  shall  now  have 
leisure  to  carry  it  on  more  regularly.  My  letters  to  you 
will  be  written,  I  am  sure,  by  me,  and,  I  hope,  read  by 
you,  with  pleasure ;  which,  I  believe,  seldom  happens,  recip- 
rocally, to  letters  written  from  and  to  a  secretary's  office. 

Do  not  apprehend  that  my  retirement  from  business  may 
be  a  hindrance  to  your  advancement  in  it,  at  a  proper 
time  :  on  the  contrary,  it  will  promote  it ;  for,  having  noth- 
ing to  ask  for  myself,  I  shall  have  the  better  title  to  ask 
for  you.  But  you  have  still  a  surer  way  than  this  of  rising, 
and  which  is  wholly  in  your  own  power.  Make  yourself 
necessary;  which,  with  your  natural  parts,  you  may,  by 
application,  do.  We  are  in  general,  in  England,  ignorant 
of  foreign  affairs :  and  of  the  interests,  views,  pretensions, 
and  policy  of  other  courts.  That  part  of  knowledge  never 
enters  into  our  thoughts,  nor  makes  part  of  our  education ; 
for  which  reason,  we  have  fewer  proper  subjects  for  foreign 
commissions,  than  any  other  country  in  Europe;  and,  when 
foreign  affairs  happen  to  be  debated  in  Parliament,  it  is 
incredible  with  how  much  ignorance.  The  harvest  of  foreign 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  47 

affairs  being  then  so  great,  and  the  laborers  so  few,  if  you 
make  yourself  master  of  them,  you  will  make  yourself  neces- 
sary ;  first  as  a  foreign,  and  then  as  a  domestic  minister  for 
that  department. 

I  am  extremely  well  pleased  with  the  account  which  you 
give  me  of  the  allotment  of  your  time.  Do  but  go  on  so, 
for  two  years  longer,  and  I  will  ask  no  more  of  you.  Your 
labors  will  be  their  own  reward  ;  but  if  you  desire  any  other, 
that  I  can  add,  you  may  depend  upon  it. 

I  am  glad  that  you  perceive  the  indecency  and  turpitude 
of  those  of  your  Commensaux,  who  disgrace  and  foul 

themselves  with  dirty  w s  and  scoundrel  gamesters.  And 

the  light  in  which,  I  am  sure,  you  see  all  reasonable  and 
decent  people  consider  them,  will  be  a  good  warning  to 
you.  Adieu. 


LETTER    XXVIII 

LONDON,  February  13,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  your  last  letter  gave  me  a  very  satisfactory 
account  of  your  manner  of  employing  your  time  at 
Leipsig.  Go  on  so  but  for  two  years  more,  and,  I 
promise  you,  that  you  will  outgo  all  the  people  of  your 
age  and  time.  I  thank  you  for  your  explanation  of  the 
Schriftsassen,  and  Amptsassen;  and  pray  let  me  know  the 
meaning  of  the  Landsassen.  I  am  very  willing  that  you 
should  take  a  Saxon  servant,  who  speaks  nothing  but  Ger- 
man, which  will  be  a  sure  way  of  keeping  up  your  German, 
after  you  leave  Germany.  But  then,  I  would  neither  have 
that  man,  nor  him  whom  you  have  already,  put.,  out  of 
livery ;  which  makes  them  both  impertinent  and  useless.  I 
am  sure,  that  as  soon  as  you  shall  have  taken  the  other 
servant,  your  present  man  will  press  extremely  to  be  out  of 
livery,  and  valet  de  chambre;  which  is  as  much  as  to  say, 
that  he  will  curl  your  hair  and  shave  you,  but  not  conde- 
scend to  do  anything  else.  I  therefore  advise  you,  never  to 
have  a  servant  out  of  livery  ;  and,  though  you  may  not 
always  think  proper  to  carry  the  servant  who  dresses  you 
abroad  in  the  rain  and  dirt,  behind  a  coach  or  before  a 


48  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

chair,  yet  keep  it  in  your  power  to  do  so,  if  you  please, 
by  keeping  him  in  livery. 

I  have  seen  Monsieur  and  Madame  Flemming,  who  gave 
me  a  very  good  account  of  you,  and  of  your  manners,  which 
to  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  were  what  I  doubted  of  the  most. 
She  told  me,  that  you  were  easy,  and  not  ashamed :  which 
is  a  great  deal  for  an  Englishman  at  your  age. 

I  set  out  for  Bath  to-morrow,  for  a  month ;  only  to  be 
better  than  well,  and  enjoy,  in  quiet,  the  liberty  which  I 
have  acquired  by  the  resignation  of  the  seals.  You  shall 
hear  from  me  more  at  large  from  thence;  and  now  good 
night  to  you. 


LETTER  XXIX 

BATH,  February  18,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  The  first  use  that  I  made  of  my  liberty  was 
to  come  here,  where  I  arrived  yesterday.     My  health, 
though  not  fundamentally  bad  yet,  for  want  of  proper 
attention  of  late,  wanted  some  repairs,  which   these  waters 
never  fail  giving  it.     I  shall    drink   them  a  month,  and  re- 
turn to  London,  there  to  enjoy  the  comforts   of   social  life, 
instead    of    groaning    under    the  load   of   business.     I   have 
given  the  description  of  the  life  that  I  propose  to  lead  for  the 
future,  in  this  motto,  which  I  have  put  up  in    the  frize  of 
my  library  in  my  new  house:  — 

Nunc  veterum  libris,  nunc  somno,  et  inertibus  horis 
Ducere  sollicitce  jucunda  oblivia  vitce. 

I  must  observe  to  you  upon  this  occasion,  that  the  unin- 
terrupted satisfaction  which  I  expect  to  find  in  that  library, 
will  be  chiefly  owing  to  my  having  employed  some  part  of 
my  life  well  at  your  age.  I  wish  I  had  employed  it  better, 
and  my  satisfaction  would  now  be  complete ;  but,  however, 
I  planted  while  young,  that  degree  of  knowledge  which  is 
now  my  refuge  and  my  shelter.  Make  your  plantations 
still  more  extensive;  they  will  more  than  pay  you  for  your 
trouble.  I  do  not  regret  the  time  that  I  passed  in  pleasures ; 
they  were  seasonable ;  they  were  the  pleasures  of  youth, 
and  I  enjoyed  them  while  young.  If  I  had  not,  I  should 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  49 

probably  have  overvalued  them  now,  as  we  are  very  apt  to 
do  what  we  do  not  know ;  but,  knowing  them  as  I  do,  I 
know  their  real  value,  and  how  much  they  are  generally 
overrated.  Nor  do  I  regret  the  time  that  I  have  passed  in 
business,  for  the  same  reason ;  those  who  see  only  the  out- 
side of  it,  imagine  it  has  hidden  charms,  which  they  pant 
after;  and  nothing  but  acquaintance  can  undeceive  them. 
I,  who  have  been  behind  the  scenes,  both  of  pleasure  and 
business,  and  have  seen  all  the  springs  and  pullies  of  those 
decorations  which  astonish  and  dazzle  the  audience,  retire, 
not  only  without  regret,  but  with  contentment  and  satis- 
faction. But  what  I  do,  and  ever  shall  regret,  is  the  time 
which,  while  young,  I  lost  in  mere  idleness,  and  in  doing 
nothing.  This  is  the  common  effect  of  the  inconsideracy  of 
youth,  against  which  I  beg  you  will  be  most  carefully 
upon  your  guard.  The  value  of  moments,  when  cast  up,  is 
immense,  if  well  employed ;  if  thrown  away,  their  loss  is 
irrecoverable.  Every  moment  may  be  put  to  some  use,  and 
that  with  much  more  pleasure,  than  if  unemployed.  Do 
not  imagine,  that  by  the  employment  of  time,  I  mean  an 
uninterrupted  application  to  serious  studies.  No;  pleasures 
are,  at  proper  times,  both  as  necessary  and  as  useful;  they 
fashion  and  form  you  for  the  world;  they  teach  you  char- 
acters, and  show  you  the  human  heart  in  its  unguarded 
minutes.  But  then  remember  to  make  that  use  of  them. 
I  have  known  many  people,  from  laziness  of  mind,  go 
through  both  pleasure  and  business  with  equal  inattention ; 
neither  enjoying  the  one,  nor  doing  the  other;  thinking 
themselves  men  of  pleasure,  because  they  were  mingled 
with  those  who  were,  and  men  of  business,  because  they 
had  business  to  do,  though  they  did  not  do  it.  Whatever 
you  do,  do  it  to  the  purpose;  do  it  thoroughly,  not  super- 
ficially. Approfondissez:  go  to  the  bottom  of  things.  Any 
thing  half  done  or  half  known,  is,  in  my  mind,  neither 
done  nor  known  at  all.  Nay  worse,  it  often  misleads. 
There  is  hardly  any  place  or  any  company,  where  you  may 
not  gain  knowledge,  if  you  please ;  almost  everybody 
knows  some  one  thing,  and  is  glad  to  talk  upon  that  one 
thing.  Seek  and  you  will  find,  in  this  world  as  well  as  in 
the  next.  See  everything;  inquire  into  everything;  and 
you  may  excuse  your  curiosity,  and  the  questions  you  ask, 
4 


50  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

which  otherwise  might  be  thought  impertinent,  by  your 
manner  of  asking  them ;  for  most  things  depend  a  great 
deal  upon  the  manner.  As,  for  example,  I  AM  AFRAID 

THAT  I  AM  VERY  TROUBLESOME  WITH  MY  QUESTIONS  ;  BUT 
NOBODY  CAN  INFORM  ME  SO  WELL  AS  YOU  J  Or  Something 

of  that  kind. 

Now  that  you  are  in  a  Lutheran  country,  go  to  their 
churches,  and  observe  the  manner  of  their  public  worship; 
attend  to  their  ceremonies,  and  inquire  the  meaning  and 
intention  of  everyone  of  them.  And,  as  you  will  soon 
understand  German  well  enough,  attend  to  their  sermons, 
and  observe  their  manner  of  preaching.  Inform  yourself 
of  their  church  government :  whether  it  resides  in  the 
sovereign,  or  in  consistories  and  synods.  Whence  arises  the 
maintenance  of  their  clergy ;  whether  from  tithes,  as  in 
England,  or  from  voluntary  contributions,  or  from  pensions 
from  the  state.  Do  the  same  thing  when  you  are  in 
Roman  Catholic  countries ;  go  to  their  churches,  see  all 
their  ceremonies:  ask  the  meaning  of  them,  get  the  terms 
explained  to  you.  As,  for  instance,  Prime,  Tierce,  Sexte, 
Nones,  Matins,  Angelus,  High  Mass,  Vespers,  Complines, 
etc.  Inform  yourself  of  their  several  religious  orders,  their 
founders,  their  rules,  their  vows,  their  habits,  their  rev- 
enues, etc.  But,  when  you  frequent  places  of  public  wor- 
ship, as  I  would  have  you  go  to  all  the  different  ones 
you  meet  with,  remember,  that  however  erroneous,  they 
are  none  of  them  objects  of  laughter  and  ridicule.  Honest 
error  is  to  be  pitied,  not  ridiculed.  The  object  of  all  the 
public  worships  in  the  world  is  the  same ;  it  is  that  great 
eternal  Being  who  created  everything.  The  different  man- 
ners of  worship  are  by  no  means  subjects  of  ridicule.  Each  sect 
thinks  its  own  is  the  best ;  and  I  know  no  infallible  judge 
in  this  world,  to  decide  which  is  the  best.  Make  the  same 
inquiries,  wherever  you  are,  concerning  the  revenues,  the 
military  establishment,  the  trade,  the  commerce,  and  the 
police  of  every  country.  And  you  would  do  well  to  keep 
a  blank  paper  book,  which  the  Germans  call  an  ALBUM  ; 
and  there,  instead  of  desiring,  as  they  do,  every  fool  they 
meet  with  to  scribble  something,  write  down  all  these 
things  as  soon  as  they  come  to  your  knowledge  from  good 
authorities. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  51 

I  had  almost  forgotten  one  thing,  which  I  would  recom- 
mend as  an  object  for  your  curiosity  and  information,  that 
is,  the  administration  of  justice ;  which,  as  it  is  always 
carried  on  in  open  court,  you  may,  and  I  would  have  you, 
go  and  see  it  with  attention  and  inquiry. 

I  have  now  but  one  anxiety  left,  which  is  concerning 
you.  I  would  have  you  be,  what  I  know  nobody  is  — 
perfect.  As  that  is  impossible,  I  would  have  you  as  near 
perfection  as  possible.  I  know  nobody  in  a  fairer  way 
toward  it  than  yourself,  if  you  please.  Never  were  so 
much  pains  taken  for  anybody's  education  as  for  yours; 
and  never  had  anybody  those  opportunities  of  knowledge 
and  improvement  which  you  have  had,  and  still  have,  I 
hope,  I  wish,  I  doubt,  and  fear  alternately.  This  only  I 
am  sure  of,  that  you  will  prove  either  the  greatest  pain  or 
the  greatest  pleasure  of,  Yours. 


BATH,  February  22,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  Every  excellency,  and  every  virtue,  has  its 
kindred  vice  or  weakness ;  and  if  carried  beyond  cer- 
tain bounds,  sinks  into  one  or  the  other.  Generosity 
often  runs  into  profusion,  economy  into  avarice,  courage 
into  rashness,  caution  into  timidity,  and  so  on:  —  insomuch 
that,  I  believe,  there  is  more  judgment  required,  for  the 
proper  conduct  of  our  virtues,  than  for  avoiding  their 
opposite  vices.  Vice,  in  its  true  light,  is  so  deformed, 
that  it  shocks  us  at  first  sight,  and  would  hardly  ever 
seduce  us,  if  it  did  not,  at  first,  wear  the  mask  of  some 
virtue.  But  virtue  is,  in  itself,  so  beautiful,  that  it  charms 
us  at  first  sight ;  engages  us  more  and  more  upon  further 
acquaintance;  and,  as  with  other  beauties,  we  think 
excess  impossible;  it  is  here  that  judgment  is  necessary,  to 
moderate  and  direct  the  effects  of  an  excellent  cause.  I 
shall  apply  this  reasoning,  at  present,  not  to  any  particular 
virtue,  but  to  an  excellency,  which,  for  want  of  judgment, 
is  often  the  cause  of  ridiculous  and  blamable  effects;  I 


52  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

mean,  great  learning;  which,  if  not  accompanied  with 
sound  judgment,  frequently  carries  us  into  error,  pride,  and 
pedantry.  As,  I  hope,  you  will  possess  that  excellency  in 
its  utmost  extent,  and  yet  without  its  too  common  failings, 
the  hints,  which  my  experience  can  suggest,  may  probably 
not  be  useless  to  you. 

Some  learned  men,  proud  of  their  knowledge,  only  speak 
to  decide,  and  give  judgment  without  appeal ;  the  con- 
sequence of  which  is,  that  mankind,  provoked  by  the  in- 
sult, and  injured  by  the  oppression,  revolt;  and,  in  order 
-to  shake  off  the  tyranny,  even  call  the  lawful  authority  in 
question.  The  more  you  know,  the  modester  you  should 
be :  and  (by  the  bye)  that  modesty  is  the  surest  way  of 
gratifying  your  vanity.  Even  where  you  are  sure,  seem 
rather  doubtful ;  represent,  but  do  not  pronounce,  and,  if 
you  would  convince  others,  seem  open  to  conviction  your- 
self. 

Others,  to  show  their  learning,  or  often  from  the  preju- 
dices of  a  school-education,  where  they  hear  of  nothing  else, 
are  always  talking  of  the  ancients,  as  something  more  than 
men,  and  of  the  moderns,  as  something  less.  They  are 
never  without  a  classic  or  two  in  their  pockets;  they  stick 
to  the  old  good  sense ;  they  read  none  of  the  modern  trash ; 
and  will  show  you,  plainly,  that  no  improvement  has  been 
made,  in  any  one  art  or  science,  these  last  seventeen  hun- 
dred years.  I  would  by  no  means  have  you  disown  your 
acquaintance  with  the  ancients  :  but  still  less  would  I  have 
you  brag  of  an  exclusive  intimacy  with  them.  Speak  of 
the  moderns  without  contempt,  and  of  the  ancients  without 
idolatry ;  judge  them  all  by  their  merits,  but  not  by  their 
ages;  and  if  you  happen  to  have  an  Elzevir  classic  in  your 
pocket  neither  show  it  nor  mention  it. 

Some  great  scholars,  most  absurdly,  draw  all  their 
maxims,  both  for  public  and  private  life,  from  what  they 
call  parallel  cases  in  the  ancient  authors ;  without  consider- 
ing, that,  in  the  first  place,  there  never  were,  since  the 
creation  of  the  world,  two  cases  exactly  parallel;  and,  in 
the  next  place,  that  there  never  was  a  case  stated,  or  even 
known,  by  any  historian,  with  every  one  of  its  circum- 
stances; which,  however,  ought  to  be  known,  in  order  to 
be  reasoned  from.  Reason  upon  the  case  itself,  and  the 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  53 

several  circumstances  that  attend  it,  and  act  accordingly; 
but  not  from  the  authority  of  ancient  poets,  or  historians. 
Take  into  your  consideration,  if  you  please,  cases  seemingly 
analogous;  but  take  them  as  helps  only,  not  as  guides.  We 
are  really  so  prejudiced  by  our  education,  that,  as  the  ancients 
deified  their  heroes,  we  deify  their  madmen;  of  which,  with 
all  due  regard  for  antiquity,  I  take  Leonidas  and  Curtius 
to  have  been  two  distinguished  ones.  And  yet  a  solid 
pedant  would,  in  a  speech  in  parliament,  relative  to  a  tax 
of  two-pence  in  the  pound  upon  some  community  or  other, 
quote  those  two  heroes,  as  examples  of  what  we  ought  to 
do  and  suffer  for  our  country.  I  have  known  these  ab- 
surdities carried  so  far  by  people  of  injudicious  learning, 
that  I  should  not  be  surprised,  if  some  of  them  were  to 
propose,  while  we  are  at  war  with  the  Gauls,  that  a  num- 
ber of  geese  should  be  kept  in  the  Tower,  upon  account  of 
the  infinite  advantage  which  Rome  received  IN  A  PARALLEL 
CASE,  from  a  certain  number  of  geese  in  the  Capitol.  This 
way  of  reasoning,  and  this  way  of  speaking,  will  always 
form  a  poor  politician,  and  a  puerile  declaimer. 

There  is  another  species  of  learned  men,  who,  though  less 
dogmatical  and  supercilious,  are  not  less  impertinent.  These 
are  the  communicative  and  shining  pedants,  who  adorn 
their  conversation,  even  with  women,  by  happy  quotations 
of  Greek  and  Latin;  and  who  have  contracted  such  a  fa- 
miliarity with  the  Greek  and  Roman  authors,  that  they  call 
them  by  certain  names  or  epithets  denoting  intimacy.  As 
OLD  Homer;  that  SLY  ROGUE  Horace;  MARO,  instead  of 
Virgil;  and  NASO,  instead  of  Ovid.  These  are  often  imi- 
tated by  coxcombs,  who  have  no  learning  at  all;  but  who 
have  got  some  names  and  some  scraps  of  ancient  authors 
by  heart,  which  they  improperly  and  impertinently  retail  in 
all  companies,  in  hopes  of  passing  for  scholars.  If,  there- 
fore, you  would  avoid  the  accusation  of  pedantry  on  one 
hand,  or  the  suspicion  of  ignorance  on  the  other,  abstain 
from  learned  ostentation.  Speak  the  language  of  the  com- 
pany that  you  are  in ;  speak  it  purely,  and  unlarded  with 
any  other.  Never  seem  wiser,  nor  more  learned,  than  the 
people  you  are  with.  Wear  your  learning,  like  your  watch, 
in  a  private  pocket :  and  do  not  pull  it  out  and  strike  it ; 
merely  to  show  that  you  have  one.  If  you  are  asked  what 


54  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

o'clock  it  is,  tell  it;  but  do  not  proclaim  it  hourly  and  un- 
asked, like  the  watchman. 

Upon  the  whole,  remember  that  learning  (I  mean  Greek 
and  Roman  learning)  is  a  most  useful  and  necessary  orna- 
ment, which  it  is  shameful  not  to  be  master  of;  but,  at 
the  same  time  most  carefully  avoid  those  errors  and  abuses 
which  I  have  mentioned,  and  which  too  often  attend  it. 
Remember,  too,  that  great  modern  knowledge  is  still  more 
necessary  than  ancient;  and  that  you  had  better  know  per- 
fectly the  present,  than  the  old  state  of  Europe ;  though  I 
would  have  you  well  acquainted  with  both. 

I  have  this  moment  received  your  letter  of  the  lyth,  N. 
S.  Though,  I  confess,  there  is  no  great  variety  in  your 
present  manner  of  life,  yet  materials  can  never  be  wanting 
for  a  letter;  you  see,  you  hear,  or  you  read  something  new 
every  day;  a  short  account  of  which,  with  your  own  reflec- 
tions thereupon,  will  make  out  a  letter  very  well.  But, 
since  you  desire  a  subject,  pray  send  me  an  account  of  the 
Lutheran  establishment  in  Germany ;  their  religious  tenets, 
their  church  government,  the  maintenance,  authority,  and 
titles  of  their  clergy. 

Vittorio  Szrt,  complete,  is  a  very  scarce  and  very  dear 
book  here;  but  I  do  not  want  it.  If  your  own  library 
grows  too  voluminous,  you  will  not  know  what  to  do  with 
it,  when  you  leave  Leipsig.  Your  best  way  will  be,  when 
you  go  away  from  thence,  to  send  to  England,  by  Ham- 
burg, all  the  books  that  you  do  not  absolutely  want. 

Yours. 


LETTER   XXXI 

BATH,  March  i,  0.8.1748. 

DEAR  BOY:     By   Mr.   Harte's    letter   to   Mr.  Grevenkop, 
of   the    2ist    February,  N.   S.,    I   find    that   you   had 
been  a  great  while  without  receiving  any  letters  from 
me ;  but  by  this  time,  I  daresay  you  think  you  have  received 
enough,  and    possibly  more    than  you    have  read;    for  I  am 
not  only  a  frequent,  but  a  prolix  correspondent. 

Mr.  Harte  says,  in    that  letter,  that   he   looks   upon  Pro- 
fessor Mascow  to  be   one  of   the  ablest  men    in  Europe,  in 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  55 

treaty  and  political  knowledge.  I  am  extremely  glad  of  it; 
for  that  is  what  I  would  have  you  particularly  apply  to, 
and  make  yourself  perfect  master  of.  The  treaty  part  you 
must  chiefly  acquire  by  reading  the  treaties  themselves,  and 
the  histories  and  memoirs  relative  to  them;  not  but  that 
inquiries  and  conversations  upon  those  treaties  will  help 
you  greatly,  and  imprint  them  better  in  your  mind.  In 
this  course  of  reading,  do  not  perplex  yourself,  at  first,  by 
the  multitude  of  insignificant  treaties  which  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Corps  Diplomatique;  but  stick  to  the  material  ones, 
which  altered  the  state  of  Europe,  and  made  a  new  arrange- 
ment among  the  great  powers;  such  as  the  treaties  of 
Munster,  Nimeguen,  Ryswick,  and  Utrecht. 

But  there  is  one  part  of  political  knowledge,  which  is 
only  to  be  had  by  inquiry  and  conversation ;  that  is,  the 
present  state  of  every  power  in  Europe,  with  regard  to  the 
three  important  points,  of  strength,  revenue,  and  commerce. 
You  will,  therefore,  do  well,  while  you  are  in  Germany,  to 
inform  yourself  carefully  of  the  military  force,  the  revenues, 
and  the  commerce  of  every  prince  and  state  of  the  empire; 
and  to  write  down  those  informations  in  a  little  book,  for 
that  particular  purpose.  To  give  you  a  specimen  of  what 
I  mean:  — 

THE  ELECTORATE  OF  HANOVER 

The  revenue  is  about  £500,000  a  year. 

The  military  establishment,  in  time  of  war,  may  be  about 
25,000  men;  but  that  is  the  utmost. 

The  trade  is  chiefly  linens,  exported  from  Stade. 

There  are  coarse  woolen  manufactures  for  home-consump- 
tion. 

The  mines  of  Hartz  produce  about  £100,000  in  silver, 
annually. 

Such  informations  you  may  very  easily  get,  by  proper 
inquiries,  of  every  state  in  Germany  if  you  will  but  pre- 
fer useful  to  frivolous  conversations. 

There  are  many  princes  in  Germany,  who  keep  very  few 
or  no  troops,  unless  upon  the  approach  of  danger,  or  for 
the  sake  of  profit,  by  letting  them  out  for  subsidies,  to 


56  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

great  powers:  In  that  case,  you  will  inform  yourself  what 
number  of  troops  they  could  raise,  either  for  their  own 
defense,  or  furnish  to  other  powers  for  subsidies. 

There  is  very  little  trouble,  and  an  infinite  use,  in  acquir- 
ing of  this  knowledge.  It  seems  to  me  even  to  be  a  more 
entertaining  subject  to  talk  upon,  than  la  pluie  et  le  beau 
terns. 

Though  I  am  sensible  that  these  things  cannot  be  known 
with  the  utmost  exactness,  at  least  by  you  yet,  you  may, 
however,  get  so  near  the  truth,  that  the  difference  will  be 
very  immaterial. 

Pray  let  me  know  if  the  Roman  Catholic  worship  is 
tolerated  in  Saxony,  anywhere  but  at  Court;  and  if  public 
mass-houses  are  allowed  anywhere  else  in  the  electorate. 
Are  the  regular  Romish  clergy  allowed ;  and  have  they  any 
convents? 

Are  there  any  military  orders  in  Saxony,  and  what?  Is 
the  White  Eagle  a  Saxon  or  a  Polish  order?  Upon  what 
occasion,  and  when  was  it  founded?  What  number  of 
knights  ? 

Adieu!  God  bless  you;  and  may  you  turn  out  what  I 
wish! 


LETTER    XXXII 

BATH,  March  9,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  must  from  time  to  time,  remind  you  of 
what  I  have  often  recommended  to  you,  and  of  what 
you  cannot  attend  to  too  much ;  SACRIFICE  TO  THE 
GRACES.  The  different  effects  of  the  same  things,  said  or 
done,  when  accompanied  or  abandoned  by  them,  is  almost 
inconceivable.  They  prepare  the  way  to  the  heart;  and 
the  heart  has  such  an  influence  over  the  understanding, 
that  it  is  worth  while  to  engage  it  in  our  interest.  It  is 
the  whole  of  women,  who  are  guided  by  nothing  else  :  and 
it  has  so  much  to  say,  even  with  men,  and  the  ablest  men 
too,  that  it  commonly  triumphs  in  every  struggle  with  the  un- 
derstanding. Monsieur  de  Rochefoucault,  in  his  "Maxims,* 
says,  that  Vesprit  est  souvent  la  dupe  du  cceur.  If  he  had 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  57 

said,  instead  of  souvent,  presque  toujours,  I  fear  he  would 
have  been  nearer  the  truth.  This  being  the  case,  aim  at  the 
heart.  Intrinsic  merit  alone  will  not  do ;  it  will  gain  you  the 
general  esteem  of  all;  but  not  the  particular  affection,  that 
is,  the  heart  of  any.  To  engage  the  affections  of  any  par- 
ticular person,  you  must,  over  and  above  your  general  merit, 
have  some  particular  merit  to  that  person  by  services  done, 
or  offered ;  by  expressions  of  regard  and  esteem ;  by  com- 
plaisance, attentions,  etc.,  for  him.  And  the  graceful  man- 
ner of  doing  all  these  things  opens  the  way  to  the  heart, 
and  facilitates,  or  rather  insures,  their  effects.  From  your 
own  observation,  reflect  what  a  disagreeable  impression  an 
awkward  address,  a  slovenly  figure,  an  ungraceful  manner 
of  speaking,  whether  stuttering,  muttering,  monotony,  or 
drawling,  an  unattentive  behavior,  etc.,  make  upon  you,  at 
first  sight,  in  a  stranger,  and  how  they  prejudice  you  against 
him,  though  for  aught  you  know,  he  may  have  great  intrinsic 
sense  and  merit.  And  reflect,  on  the  other  hand,  how  much 
the  opposites  of  all  these  things  prepossess  you,  at  first  sight, 
in  favor  of  those  who  enjoy  them.  You  wish  to  find  all 
good  qualities  in  them,  and  are  in  some  degree  disappointed 
if  you  do  not.  A  thousand  little  things,  not  separately  to 
be  defined,  conspire  to  form  these  graces,  this  je  ne  sais  quoi, 
that  always  please.  A  pretty  person,  genteel  motions,  a 
proper  degree  of  dress,  an  harmonious  voice,  something  open 
and  cheerful  in  the  countenance,  but  without  laughing;  a 
distinct  and  properly  varied  manner  of  speaking :  All  these 
things,  and  many  others,  are  necessary  ingredients  in  the 
composition  of  the  pleasing  je  ne  sais  quoi,  which  everybody 
feels,  though  nobody  can  describe.  Observe  carefully,  then, 
what  displeases  or  pleases  you  in  others,  and  be  persuaded, 
that  in  general,  the  same  things  will  please  or  displease 
them  in  you.  Having  mentioned  laughing,  I  must  particu- 
larly warn  you  against  it:  and  I  could  heartily  wish,  that 
you  may  often  be  seen  to  smile,  but  never  heard  to  laugh 
while  you  live.  Frequent  and  loud  laughter  is  the  char- 
acteristic of  folly  and  in  manners;  it  is  the  manner  in  which 
the  mob  express  their  silly  joy  at  silly  things ;  and  they  call 
it  being  merry.  In  my  mind,  there  is  nothing  so  illiberal, 
and  so  ill-bred,  as  audible  laughter.  True  wit,  or  sense, 
never  yet  made  anybody  laugh ;  they  are  above  it :  They 


58  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

please  the  mind,  and  give  a  cheerfulness  to  the  countenance. 
But  it  is  low  buffoonery,  or  silly  accidents,  that  always  excite 
laughter;  and  that  is  what  people  of  sense  and  breeding 
should  show  themselves  above.  A  man's  going  to  sit  down, 
in  the  supposition  that  he  has  a  chair  behind  him,  and 
falling  down  upon  his  breech  for  want  of  one,  sets  a  whole 
company  a  laughing,  when  all  the  wit  in  the  world  would 
not  do  it;  a  plain  proof,  in  my  mind,  how  low  and  unbecom- 
ing a  thing  laughter  is:  not  to  mention  the  disagreeable 
noise  that  it  makes,  and  the  shocking  distortion  of  the  face 
that  it  occasions.  Laughter  is  easily  restrained,  by  a  very 
little  reflection ;  but  as  it  is  generally  connected  with  the 
idea  of  gaiety,  people  do  not  enough  attend  to  its  absurdity. 
I  am  neither  of  a  melancholy  nor  a  cynical  disposition,  and 
am  as  willing  and  as  apt  to  be  pleased  as  anybody;  but  I 
am  sure  that,  since  I  have  had  the  full  use  of  my  reason, 
nobody  has  ever  heard  me  laugh.  Many  people,  at  first, 
from  awkwardness  and  mauvaise  honte,  have  got  a  very 
disagreeable  and  silly  trick  of  laughing  whenever  they  speak; 
and  I  know  a  man  of  very  good  parts,  Mr.  Waller,  who 
cannot  say  the  commonest  thing  without  laughing;  which 
makes  those,  who  do  not  know  him,  take  him  at  first  for  a 
natural  fool.  This,  and  many  other  very  disagreeable  habits, 
are  owing  to  mauvaise  honte  at  their  first  setting  out  in  the 
world.  They  are  ashamed  in  company,  and  so  disconcerted, 
that  they  do  not  know  what  they  do,  and  try  a  thousand 
tricks  to  keep  themselves  in  countenance;  which  tricks  after- 
ward grow  habitual  to  them.  Some  put  their  fingers  in 
their  nose,  others  scratch  their  heads,  others  twirl  their  hats; 
in  short,  every  awkward,  ill-bred  body  has  his  trick.  But 
the  frequency  does  not  justify  the  thing,  and  all  these  vulgar 
habits  and  awkwardnesses,  though  not  criminal  indeed,  are 
most  carefully  to  be  guarded  against,  as  they  are  great  bars 
in  the  way  of  the  art  of  pleasing.  Remember,  that  to  please 
is  almost  to  prevail,  or  at  least  a  necessary  previous  step 
to  it.  You,  who  have  your  fortune  to  make,  should  more 
particularly  study  this  art.  You  had  not,  I  must  tell  you, 
when  you  left  England,  les  manures  frevenantes;  and  I  must 
confess  they  are  not  very  common  in  England ;  but  I  hope 
that  your  good  sense  will  make  you  acquire  them  abroad. 
If  you  desire  to  make  yourself  considerable  in  the  world 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  59 

(as,  if  you  have  any  spirit,  you  do),  it  must  be  entirely 
your  own  doing ;  for  I  may  very  possibly  be  out  of  the 
world  at  the  time  you  come  into  it.  Your  own  rank  and 
fortune  will  not  assist  you ;  your  merit  and  your  manners 
can  alone  raise  you  to  figure  and  fortune.  I  have  laid  the 
foundations  of  them,  by  the  education  which  I  have  given 
you ;  but  you  must  build  the  superstructure  yourself. 

I  must  now  apply  to  you  for  some  informations,  which 
I  dare  say  you  can,  and  which  I  desire  you  will  give 
me. 

Can  the  Elector  of  Saxony  put  any  of  his  subjects  to  death 
for  high  treason,  without  bringing  them  first  to  their  trial  in 
some  public  court  of  justice? 

Can  he,  by  his  own  authority,  confine  any  subject  in  prison 
as  long  as  he  pleases,  without  trial? 

Can  he  banish  any  subject  out  of  his  dominions  by  his  own 
authority  ? 

Can  he  lay  any  tax  whatsoever  upon  his  subjects,  without 
the  consent  of  the  states  of  Saxony?  and  what  are  those 
states?  how  are  they  elected?  what  orders  do  they  consist 
of?  Do  the  clergy  make  part  of  them?  and  when,  and  how 
often  do  they  meet? 

If  two  subjects  of  the  elector's  are  at  law,  for  an  estate 
situated  in  the  electorate,  in  what  court  must  this  suit  be 
tried?  and  will  the  decision  of  that  court  be  final,  or  does 
there  lie  an  appeal  to  the  imperial  chamber  at  Wetzlaer? 

What  do  you  call  the  two  chief  courts,  or  two  chief 
magistrates,  of  civil  and  criminal  justice? 

What  is  the  common  revenue  of  the  electorate,  one  year 
with  another? 

What  number  of  troops  does  the  elector  now  maintain? 
and  what  is  the  greatest  number  that  the  electorate  is  able 
to  maintain? 

I  do  not  expect  to  have  all  these  questions  answered  at 
once;  but  you  will  answer  them,  in  proportion  as  you  get 
the  necessary  and  authentic  informations. 

You  are,  you  see,  my  German  oracle ;  and  I  consult  you 
with  so  much  faith,  that  you  need  not,  like  the  oracles  of 
old,  return  ambiguous  answers;  especially  as  you  have  this 
advantage  over  them,  too,  that  I  only  consult  you  about  past 
and  present,  but  not  about  what  is  to  come. 


60  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

I  wish  you  a  good  Easter-fair  at  Leipsig.  See,  with 
attention  all  the  shops,  drolls,  tumblers,  rope-dancers,  and 
hoc  genus  omne:  but  inform  yourself  more  particularly  of  the 
several  parts  of  trade  there.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XXXIII 

LONDON,  March  25,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  am  in  great  joy  at  the  written  and  the 
verbal  accounts  which  I  have  received  lately  of  you. 
The  former,  from  Mr.  Harte ;  the  latter,  from  Mr. 
Trevanion,  who  is  arrived  here:  they  conspire  to  convince 
me  that  you  employ  your  time  well  at  Leipsig.  I  am  glad 
to  find  you  consult  your  own  interest  and  your  own  pleasure 
so  much ;  for  the  knowledge  which  you  will  acquire  in 
these  two  years  is  equally  necessary  for  both.  I  am  like- 
wise particularly  pleased  to  find  that  you  turn  yourself  to 
that  sort  of  knowledge  which  is  more  peculiarly  necessary 
for  your  destination:  for  Mr.  Harte  tells  me  you  have  read, 
with  attention,  Caillieres,  Pequet,  and  Richelieu's  "Letters.* 
The  <(  Memoirs  w  of  the  Cardinal  de  Retz  will  both  entertain 
and  instruct  you  ;  they  relate  to  a  very  interesting  period  of  the 
French  history,  the  ministry  of  Cardinal  Mazarin,  during  the 
minority  of  Lewis  XIV.  The  characters  of  all  the  con- 
siderable people  of  that  time  are  drawn,  in  a  short,  strong, 
and  masterly  manner ;  and  the  political  reflections,  which 
are  most  of  them  printed  in  italics,  are  the  justest  that  ever  I 
met  with :  they  are  not  the  labored  reflections  of  a  systematical 
closet  politician,  who,  without  the  least  experience  of  business, 
sits  at  home  and  writes  maxims;  but  they  are  the  reflections 
which  a  great  and  able  man  formed  from  long  experience 
and  practice  in  great  business.  They  are  true  conclusions, 
drawn  from  facts,  not  from  speculations. 

As  modern  history  is  particularly  your  business,  I  will  give 
you  some  rules  to  direct  your  study  of  it.  It  begins,  properly 
with  Charlemagne,  in  the  year  800.  But  as,  in  those  times 
of  ignorance,  the  priests  and  monks  were  almost  the  only 
people  that  could  or  did  write,  we  have  scarcely  any  his- 
tories of  those  times  but  such  as  they  have  been  pleased  to* 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  61 

give  us,  which  are  compounds  of  ignorance,  superstition,  and 
party  zeal.  So  that  a  general  notion  of  what  is  rather 
supposed,  than  really  known  to  be,  the  history  of  the  five 
or  six  following  centuries,  seems  to  be  sufficient;  and  much 
time  would  be  but  ill  employed  in  a  minute  attention  to 
those  legends.  But  reserve  your  utmost  care,  and  most 
diligent  inquiries,  from  the  fifteenth  century,  and  downward. 
Then  learning  began  to  revive,  and  credible  histories  to  be 
written ;  Europe  began  to  take  the  form,  which,  to  some 
degree,  it  still  retains:  at  least  the  foundations  of  the  present 
great  powers  of  Europe  were  then  laid.  Lewis  the  Eleventh 
made  France,  in  truth,  a  monarchy,  or,  as  he  used  to  say 
himself,  la  mil  hors  de  Page.  Before  his  time,  there  were 
independent  provinces  in  France,  as  the  Duchy  of  Brittany, 
etc.,  whose  princes  tore  it  to  pieces,  and  kept  it  in  constant 
domestic  confusion.  Lewis  the  Eleventh  reduced  all  these 
petty  states,  by  fraud,  force,  or  marriage ;  for  he  scrupled 
no  means  to  obtain  his  ends. 

About  that  time,  Ferdinand  King  of  Aragon,  and  Isabella 
his  wife,  Queen  of  Castile,  united  the  whole  Spanish  mon- 
archy, and  drove  the  Moors  out  of  Spain,  who  had  till  then 
kept  position  of  Granada.  About  that  time,  too,  the  house 
of  Austria  laid  the  great  foundations  of  its  subsequent 
power ;  first,  by  the  marriage  of  Maximilian  with  the  heiress 
of  Burgundy;  and  then,  by  the  marriage  of  his  son  Philip, 
Archduke  of  Austria,  with  Jane,  the  daughter  of  Isabella, 
Queen  of  Spain,  and  heiress  of  that  whole  kingdom,  and  of 
the  West  Indies.  By  the  first  of  these  marriages,  the  house 
of  Austria  acquired  the  seventeen  provinces,  and  by  the  lat- 
ter, Spain  and  America;  all  which  centered  in  the  person  of 
Charles  the  Fifth,  son  of  the  above-mentioned  Archduke 
Philip,  the  son  of  Maximilian.  It  was  upon  account  of  these 
two  marriages,  that  the  following  Latin  distich  was  made : — 

Bella  gerant  alii,  Tu  felix  Austria  nube; 
Nam  quce  Mars  aliis,  dat  tibi  regna    Venus. 

This  immense  power,  which  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth 
found  himself  possessed  of,  gave  him  a  desire  for  universal 
power  (for  people  never  desire  all  till  they  have  gotten  a 
great  deal),  and  alarmed  France;  this  sowed  the  seeds  of 
that  jealousy  and  enmity,  which  have  flourished  ever  since 


62  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

between  those  two  great  powers.  Afterward  the  House 
of  Austria  was  weakened  by  the  division  made  by  Charles 
the  Fifth  of  his  dominions,  between  his  son,  Philip  the 
Second  of  Spain,  and  his  brother  Ferdinand ;  and  has  ever 
since  been  dwindling  to  the  weak  condition  in  which  it  now 
is.  This  is  a  most  interesting  part  of  the  history  of 
Europe,  of  which  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should 
be  exactly  and  minutely  informed. 

There  are  in  the  history  of  most  countries,  certain  very 
remarkable  eras,  which  deserve  more  particular  inquiry  and 
attention  than  the  common  run  of  history.  Such  is  the  revolt 
of  the  Seventeen  Provinces,  in  the  reign  of  Philip  the  Sec- 
ond of  Spain,  which  ended  in  forming  the  present  repub- 
lic of  the  Seven  United  Provinces,  whose  independency 
was  first  allowed  by  Spain  at  the  treaty  of  Munster.  Such 
was  the  extraordinary  revolution  of  Portugal,  in  the  year  1640, 
in  favor  of  the  present  House  of  Braganza.  Such  is  the 
famous  revolution  of  Sweden,  when  Christian  the  Second  of 
Denmark,  who  was  also  king  of  Sweden,  was  driven  out  by 
Gustavus  Vasa.  And  such  also  is  that  memorable  era  in 
Denmark,  of  1660;  when  the  states  of  that  kingdom  made 
a  voluntary  surrender  of  all  their  rights  and  liberties  to  the 
Crown,  and  changed  that  free  state  into  the  most  absolute 
monarchy  now  in  Europe.  The  Ada  Regia,  upon  that 
occasion,  are  worth  your  perusing.  These  remarkable  periods 
of  modern  history  deserve  your  particular  attention,  and  most 
of  them  have  been  treated  singly  by  good  historians,  which 
are  worth  your  reading.  The  revolutions  of  Sweden,  and  of 
Portugal,  are  most  admirably  well  written  by  L'Abb£  de 
Vertot ;  they  are  short,  and  will  not  take  twelve  hours'  read- 
ing. There  is  another  book  which  very  well  deserves  your 
looking  into,  but  not  worth  your  buying  at  present,  because 
it  is  not  portable;  if  you  can  borrow  or  hire  it,  you  should; 
and  that  is,  Z.'  Histoire  des  Trait&s  de  Paix,  in  two 
volumes,  folio,  which  make  part  of  the  Corps  Diplomatique. 
You  will  there  find  a  short  and  clear  history,  and  the  sub- 
stance of  every  treaty  made  in  Europe,  during  the  last 
century,  from  the  treaty  of  Vervins.  Three  parts  in  four 
of  this  book  are  not  worth  your  reading,  as  they  relate  to 
treaties  of  very  little  importance;  but  if  you  select  the  most 
considerable  ones,  read  them  with  attention,  and  take 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  63 

some  notes,  it  will  be  of  great  use  to  you.  Attend  chiefly 
to  those  in  which  the  great  powers  of  Europe  are  the 
parties ;  such  as  the  treaty  of  the  Pyrenees,  between  France 
and  Spain ;  the  treaties  of  Nimeguen  and  Ryswick ;  but, 
above  all,  the  treaty  of  Munster  should  be  most  circum- 
stantially and  minutely  known  to  you,  as  almost  every 
treaty  made  since  has  some  reference  to  it.  For  this,  Pere 
Bougeant  is  the  best  book  you  can  read,  as  it  takes  in  the 
thirty  years'  war,  which  preceded  that  treaty,.  The  treaty  it- 
self, which  is  made  a  perpetual  law  of  the  empire,  comes  in 
the  course  of  your  lectures  upon  the  Jus  Publicum  Imperil. 

In  order  to  furnish  you  with  materials  for  a  letter,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  inform  both  you  and  myself  of  what  it 
is  right  that  we  should  know,  pray  answer  me  the  follow- 
ing questions  : — 

How  many  companies  are  there  in  the  Saxon  regiments 
of  foot?  How  many  men  in  each  company? 

How  many  troops  in  the  regiments  of  horse  and  drag- 
oons ;  and  how  many  men  in  each  ? 

What  number  of  commissioned  and  non-commissioned 
officers  in  a  company  of  foot,  or  in  a  troop  of  horse  or 
dragoons?  N.  B.  Non-commissioned  officers  are  all  those 
below  ensigns  and  cornets. 

What  is  the  daily  pay  of  a  Saxon  foot  soldier,  dragoon, 
and  trooper? 

What  are  the  several  ranks  of  the  Etat  Major-general? 
N.  B.  The  Etat  Major-general  is  everything  above  col- 
onel. The  Austrians  have  no  brigadiers,  and  the  French 
have  no  major-generals  in  their  Etat  Major.  What  have 
the  Saxons?  Adieu! 


LETTER    XXXIV 

LONDON,  March  27,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :     This  little  packet  will  be  delivered  to  you 
by  one  Monsieur  Duval,   who  is  going  to  the  fair  at 
Leipsig.     He  is  a  jeweler,  originally  of  Geneva,  but 
who  has   been   settled  here  these  eight   or  ten  years,  and  a 
very  sensible  fellow:  pray  do  be  very  civil  to  him. 


64  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

As  I  advised  you,  some  time  ago,  to  inform  yourself  of 
the  civil  and  military  establishments  of  as  many  of  the 
kingdoms  and  states  of  Europe,  as  you  should  either  be  in 
yourself,  or  be  able  to  get  authentic  accounts  of,  I  send 
you  here  a  little  book,  in  which,  upon  the  article  of  Han- 
over, I  have  pointed  out  the  short  method  of  putting 
down  these  informations,  by  way  of  helping  your  memory. 
The  book  being  lettered,  you  can  immediately  turn  to 
whatever  article  you  want ;  and,  by  adding  interleaves  to 
each  letter,  may  extend  your  minutes  to  what  particulars 
you  please.  You  may  get  such  books  made  anywhere;  and 
appropriate  each,  if  you  please,  to  a  particular  object.  I 
have  myself  found  great  utility  in  this  method.  If  I  had 
known  what  to  have  sent  you  by  this  opportunity  I  would 
have  done  it.  The  French  say,  Que  les  petit s  prdsens  en- 
tretiennent  Famiti'e  et  que  les  grande  V  augmentent ;  but  I 
could  not  recollect  that  you  wanted  anything,  or  at  least 
anything  that  you  cannot  get  as  well  at  Leipsig  as  here. 
Do  but  continue  to  deserve,  and,  I  assure  you,  that  you 
shall  never  want  anything  I  can  give. 

Do  not  apprehend  that  my  being  out  of  employment 
may  be  any  prejudice  to  you.  Many  things  will  hap- 
pen before  you  can  be  fit  for  business ;  and  when  you  are 
fit,  whatever  my  situation  may  be,  it  will  always  be  in 
my  power  to  help  you  in  your  first  steps ;  afterward  you 
must  help  yourself  by  your  own  abilities.  Make  yourself 
necessary,  and,  instead  of  soliciting,  you  will  be  solicited. 
The  thorough  knowledge  of  foreign  affairs,  the  interests, 
the  views,  and  the  manners  of  the  several  courts  in 
Europe,  are  not  the  common  growth  of  this  country.  It  is 
in  your  power  to  acquire  them ;  you  have  all  the  means. 
Adieu  1  Yours. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  65 


LETTER    XXXV 

LONDON,  April  i,  O.  S.  1748. 

DFAR  BOY:  I  have  not  received  any  letter,  either  from 
you  or  from  Mr.  Harte,  these  three  posts,  which  I 
impute  wholly  to  accidents  between  this  place  and 
Leipsig;  and  they  are  distant  enough  to  admit  of  many. 
X  always  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  well,  when  I  do 
not  hear  to  the  contrary ;  besides,  as  I  have  often  told 
you,  I  am  much  more  anxious  about  your  doing  well,  than 
about  your  being  well;  and,  when  you  do  not  write,  I 
will  suppose  that  you  are  doing  something  more  useful. 
Your  health  will  continue,  while  your  temperance  con- 
tinues ;  and  at  your  age  nature  takes  sufficient  care  of  the 
body,  provided  she  is  left  to  herself,  and  that  intemperance 
on  one  hand,  or  medicines  on  the  other,  do  not  break 
in  upon  her.  But  it  is  by  no  means  so  with  the  mind, 
which,  at  your  age  particularly,  requires  great  and  con- 
stant care,  and  some  physic.  Every  quarter  of  an  hourr 
well  or  ill  employed,  will  do  it  essential  and  lasting  good 
or  harm.  It  requires  also  a  great  deal  of  exercise,  to 
bring  it  to  a  state  of  health  and  vigor.  Observe  the  dif- 
ference there  is  between  minds  cultivated,  and  minds 
uncultivated,  and  you  will,  I  am  sure,  think  that  you  can- 
not take  too  much  pains,  nor  employ  too  much  of  your 
time  in  the  culture  of  your  own.  A  drayman  is  probably 
born  with  as  good  organs  as  Milton,  Locke,  or  Newton; 
but,  by  culture,  they  are  as  much  more  above  him  as  he  is 
above  his  horse.  Sometimes,  indeed,  extraordinary  geniuses 
have  broken  out  by  the  force  of  nature,  without  the  assist- 
ance of  education;  but  those  instances  are  too  rare  for  any- 
body to  trust  to ;  and  even  they  would  make  a  much 
greater  figure,  if  they  had  the  advantage  of  education  into 
the  bargain.  If  Shakespeare's  genius  had  been  cultivated, 
those  beauties,  which  we  so  justly  admire  in  him,  would 
have  been  undisgraced  by  those  extravagancies,  and  that 
nonsense,  with  which  they  are  frequently  accompanied. 
People  are,  in  general,  what  they  are  made,  by  education 
and  company,  from  fifteen  to  five-and-twenty;  consider 
5 


66  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

well,  therefore,  the  importance  of  your  next  eight  or  nine 
years ;  your  whole  depends  upon  them.  I  will  tell  you 
sincerely,  my  hopes  and  my  fears  concerning  you.  I  think 
you  will  be  a  good  scholar,  and  that  you  will  acquire 
a  considerable  stock  of  knowledge  of  various  kinds;  but  I 
fear  that  you  neglect  what  are  called  little,  though,  in 
truth,  they  are  very  material  things;  I  mean,  a  gentleness 
of  manners,  an  engaging  address,  and  an  insinuating  be- 
havior; they  are  real  and  solid  advantages,  and  none  but 
those  who  do  not  know  the  world,  treat  them  as  trifles. 
I  am  told  that  you  speak  very  quick,  and  not  distinctly ; 
this  is  a  most  ungraceful  and  disagreeable  trick,  which 
you  know  I  have  told  you  of  a  thousand  times;  pray  at- 
tend carefully  to  the  correction  of  it,,  An  agreeable  and 
distinct  manner  of  speaking  adds  greatly  to  the  matter ; 
and  I  have  known  many  a  very  good  speech  unregarded, 
upon  account  of  the  disagreeable  manner  in  which  it  has 
been  delivered,  and  many  an  indifferent  one  applauded, 
from  the  contrary  reason.  Adieu! 


LETTER  XXXVI 

LONDON,  April  15,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  Though  I  have  no  letters  from  you  to  ac- 
knowledge since  my  last  to  you,  I  will  not  let  three 
posts  go  from  hence  without  a  letter  from  me.  My 
affection  always  prompts  me  to  write  to  you ;  and  I  am 
encouraged  to  do  it,  by  the  hopes  that  my  letters  are  not 
quite  useless.  You  will  probably  receive  this  in  the  midst 
of  the  diversions  of  Leipsig  fair;  at  which,  Mr.  Harte  tells 
me,  that  you  are  to  shine  in  fine  clothes,  among  fine  folks.  I 
am  very  glad  of  it,  as  it  is  time  that  you  should  begin  to  be 
formed  to  the  manners  of  the  world  in  higher  life.  Courts  are 
the  best  schools  for  that  sort  of  learning.  You  are  beginning 
now  with  the  outside  of  a  court ;  and  there  is  not  a  more 
gaudy  one  than  that  of  Saxony.  Attend  to  it,  and  make 
your  observations  upon  the  turn  and  manners  of  it,  that 
you  may  hereafter  compare  it  with  other  courts,  which  you 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  67 

will  see.  And,  though  you  are  not  yet  able  to  be  informed, 
or  to  judge  of  the  political  conduct  and  maxims  of  that 
court,  yet  you  may  remark  the  forms,  the  ceremonies,  and 
the  exterior  state  of  it.  At  least  see  '  everything  that  you 
can  see,  and  know  everything  that  you  can  know  of  it, 
by  asking  questions.  See  likewise  everything  at  the  fair, 
from  operas  and  plays,  down  to  the  Savoyard's  raree-shows. 
Everything  is  worth  seeing  once;  and  the  more  one  sees, 
the  less  one  either  wonders  or  admires. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte,  and  tell  him  that  I 
have  just  now  received  his  letter,  for  which  I  thank  him. 
I  am  called  away,  and  my  letter  is  therefore  very  much 
shortened.  Adieu. 

I  am  impatient  to  receive  your  answers  to  the  many  ques- 
tions that  I  have  asked  you. 


LETTER    XXXVII 

LONDON,  April  26,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  am  extremely  pleased  with  your  continua- 
tion of  the  history  of  the  Reformation ;  which  is  one 
of  those  important  eras  that  deserves  your  utmost 
attention,  and  of  which  you  cannot  be  too  minutely 
informed.  You  have,  doubtless,  considered  the  causes 
of  that  great  event,  and  observed  that  disappointment  and 
resentment  had  a  much  greater  share  in  it,  than  a  religious 
zeal  or  an  abhorrence  of  the  errors  and  abuses  of  popery. 
Luther,  an  Augustine  monk,  enraged  that  his  order,  and 
consequently  himself,  had  not  the  exclusive  privilege  of 
selling  indulgences,  but  that  the  Dominicans  were  let  into 
a  share  of  that  profitable  but  infamous  trade,  turns  reformer, 
and  exclaims  against  the  abuses,  the  corruption,  and  the 
idolatry,  of  the  church  of  Rome;  which  were  certainly  gross 
enough  for  him  to  have  seen  long  before,  but  which  he 
had  at  least  acquiesced  in,  till  what  he  called  the  rights, 
that  is,  the  profit,  of  his  order  came  to  be  touched.  It  is 
true,  the  church  of  Rome  furnished  him  ample  matter  for 
complaint  and  reformation,  and  he  laid  hold  of  it  ably. 


68  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

This  seems  to  me  the  true  cause  of  that  great  and  necessary 
work;  but  whatever  the  cause  was,  the  effect  was  good; 
and  the  Reformation  spread  itself  by  its  own  truth  and 
fitness;  was  conscientiously  received  by  great  numbers  in 
Germany,  and  other  countries;  and  was  soon  afterward 
mixed  up  with  the  politics  of  princes;  and,  as  it  always 
happens  in  religious  disputes,  became  the  specious  covering 
of  injustice  and  ambition. 

Under  the  pretense  of  crushing  heresy,  as  it  was  called, 
the  House  of  Austria  meant  to  extend  and  establish  its 
power  in  the  empire ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  many  Protes- 
tant princes,  under  the  pretense  of  extirpating  idolatry,  or 
at  least  of  securing  toleration,  meant  only  to  enlarge  their 
own  dominions  or  privileges.  These  views  respectively, 
among  the  chiefs  on  both  sides,  much  more  than  true  re- 
ligious motives,  continued  what  were  called  the  religious 
wars  in  Germany,  almost  uninterruptedly,  till  the  affairs 
of  the  two  religions  were  finally  settled  by  the  treaty  of 
Munster. 

Were  most  historical  events  traced  up  to  their  true  causes, 
I  fear  we  should  not  find  them  much  more  noble  or  dis- 
interested than  Luther's  disappointed  avarice;  and  there- 
fore I  look  with  some  contempt  upon  those  refining  and 
sagacious  historians,  who  ascribe  all,  even  the  most  com- 
mon events,  to  some  deep  political  cause;  whereas  mankind 
is  made  up  of  inconsistencies,  and  no  man  acts  invariably 
up  to  his  predominant  character.  The  wisest  man  some- 
times acts  weakly,  and  the  weakest  sometimes  wisely.  Our 
jarring  passions,  our  variable  humors,  nay,  our  greater 
or  lesser  degree  of  health  and  spirits,  produce  such 
contradictions  in  our  conduct,  that,  I  believe,  those  are  the 
oftenest  mistaken,  who  ascribe  our  actions  to  the  most 
seemingly  obvious  motives ;  and  I  am  convinced,  that  a 
light  supper,  a  good  night's  sleep,  and  a  fine  morning,  have 
sometimes  made  a  hero  of  the  same  man,  who,  by  an  in- 
digestion, a  restless  night,  and  rainy  morning,  would  have 
proved  a  coward.  Our  best  conjectures,  therefore,  as  to 
the  true  springs  of  actions,  are  but  very  uncertain;  and  the 
actions  themselves  are  all  that  we  must  pretend  to  know 
from  history.  That  Caesar  was  murdered  by  twenty-three 
conspirators,  I  make  no  doubt:  but  I  very  much  doubt 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  69 

that  their  love  of  liberty,  and  of  their  country,  was  their 
sole,  or  even  principal  motive ;  and  I  dare  say  that,  if  the 
truth  were  known,  we  should  find  that  many  other  motives 
at  least  concurred,  even  in  the  great  Brutus  himself;  such 
as  pride,  envy,  personal  pique,  and  disappointment.  Nay, 
I  cannot  help  carrying  my  Pyrrhonism  still  further,  and 
extending  it  often  to  historical  facts  themselves,  at  least  to 
most  of  the  circumstances  with  which  they  are  related;  and 
every  day's  experience  confirms  me  in  this  historical  in- 
credulity. Do  we  ever  hear  the  most  recent  fact  related 
exactly  in  the  same  way,  by  the  several  people  who  were 
at  the  same  time  eyewitnesses  of  it?  No.  One  mistakes, 
another  misrepresents,  and  others  warp  it  a  little  to  their 
own  turn  of  mind,  or  private  views.  A  man  who  has  been 
concerned  in  a  transaction  will  not  write  it  fairly;  and  a 
man  who  has  not,  cannot.  But  notwithstanding  all  this 
uncertainty,  history  is  not  the  less  necessary  to  be  known, 
as  the  best  histories  are  taken  for  granted,  and  are  the  fre- 
quent subjects  both  of  conversation  and  writing.  Though 
I  am  convinced  that  Caesar's  ghost  never  appeared  to 
Brutus,  yet  I  should  be  much  ashamed  to  be  ignorant  of 
that  fact,  as  related  by  the  historians  of  those  times.  Thus 
the  Pagan  theology  is  universally  received  as  matter  for 
writing  and  conversation,  though  believed  now  by  nobody; 
and  we  talk  of  Jupiter,  Mars,  Apollo,  etc.,  as  gods, 
though  we  know,  that  if  they  ever  existed  at  all,  it  was 
only  as  mere  mortal  men.  This  historical  Pyrrhonism, 
then,  proves  nothing  against  the  study  and  knowledge  of 
history;  which,  of  all  other  studies,  is  the  most  necessary  for 
a  man  who  is  to  live  in  the  world.  It  only  points  out  to 
us,  not  to  be  too  decisive  and  peremptory ;  and  to  be  cau- 
tious how  we  draw  inferences  for  our  own  practice  from 
remote  facts,  partially  or  ignorantly  related;  of  which  we 
can,  at  best,  but  imperfectly  guess,  and  certainly  not  know 
the  real  motives.  The  testimonies  of  ancient  history  must 
necessarily  be  weaker  than  those  of  modern,  as  all  testi- 
mony grows  weaker  and  weaker,  as  it  is  more  and  more 
remote  from  us.  I  would  therefore  advise  you  to  study 
ancient  history,  in  general,  as  other  people  do ;  that  is,  not 
to  be  ignorant  of  any  or  those  facts  which  are  universally 
received,  upon  the  faith  of  the  best  historians;  and, 


70  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

whether  true  or  false,  you  have  them  as  other  people  have 
them.  But  modern  history,  I  mean  particularly  that  of  the 
last  three  centuries,  is  what  I  would  have  you  apply  to 
with  the  greatest  attention  and  exactness.  There  the  prob- 
ability of  coming  at  the  truth  is  much  greater,  as  the 
testimonies  are  much  more  recent;  besides,  anecdotes, 
memoirs,  and  original  letters,  often  come  to  the  aid  of 
modern  history.  The  best  memoirs  that  I  know  of  are 
those  of  Cardinal  de  Retz,  which  I  have  once  before 
recommended  to  you ;  and  which  I  advise  you  to  read  more 
than  once,  with  attention.  There  are  many  political  max- 
ims in  these  memoirs,  most  of  which  are  printed  in  italics; 
pray  attend  to,  and  remember  them.  I  never  read  them 
but  my  own  experience  confirms  the  truth  of  them.  Many 
of  them  seem  trifling  to  people  who  are  not  used  to 
business ;  but  those  who  are,  feel  the  truth  of  them. 

It  is  time  to  put  an  end  to  this  long  rambling  letter;  in 
which  if  any  one  thing  can  be  of  use  to  you,  it  will  more 
than  pay  the  trouble  I  have  taken  to  write  it.  Adieu! 
Yours. 


LETTER    XXXVIII 

LONDON,  May  10,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  reckon  that  this  letter  will  find  you 
just  returned  from  Dresden,  where  you  have  made 
your  first  court  caravanne.  What  inclination  for 
courts  this  taste  of  them  may  have  given  you,  I  cannot 
tell ;  but  this  I  think  myself  sure  of,  from  your  good  sense, 
that  in  leaving  Dresden,  you  have  left  dissipation  too;  and 
have  resumed  at  Leipsig  that  application  which,  if  you 
like  courts,  can  alone  enable  you  to  make  a  good  figure  at 
them.  A  mere  courtier,  without  parts  or  knowledge,  is  the 
most  frivolous  and  contemptible  of  all  beings;  as,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  man  of  parts  and  knowledge,  who  acquires 
the  easy  and  noble  manners  of  a  court,  is  the  most 
perfect.  It  is  a  trite,  commonplace  observation,  that  courts 
are  the  seats  of  falsehood  and  dissimulation.  That,  like 
many,  I  might  say  most,  commonplace  observations*  is 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  71 

false.  Falsehood  and  dissimulation  are  certainly  to  be 
found  at  courts;  but  where  are  they  not  to  be  found? 
Cottages  have  them,  as  well  as  courts;  only  with  worse 
manners.  A  couple  of  neighboring  farmers  in  a  village 
will  contrive  and  practice  as  many  tricks,  to  over-reach  each 
other  at  the  next  market,  or  to  supplant  each  other  in  the 
favor  of  the  squire,  as  any  two  courtiers  can  do  to  sup- 
plant each  other  in  the  favor  of  their  prince. 

Whatever  poets  may  write,  or  fools  believe,  of  rural  in- 
nocence and  truth,  and  of  the  perfidy  of  courts,  this  is 
most  undoubtedly  true  —  that  shepherds  and  ministers  are 
both  men;  their  nature  and  passions  the  same,  the  modes  of 
them  only  different. 

Having  mentioned  commonplace  observations,  I  will  par- 
ticularly caution  you  against  either  using,  believing,  or 
approving  them.  They  are  the  common  topics  of  witlings 
and  coxcombs ;  those,  who  really  have  wit,  have  the  ut- 
most contempt  for  them,  and  scorn  even  to  laugh  at  the 
pert  things  that  those  would-be  wits  say  upon  such  sub- 
jects. 

Religion  is  one  of  their  favorite  topics ;  it  is  all  priest-craft ; 
and  an  invention  contrived  and  carried  on  by  priests  of  all 
religions,  for  their  own  power  and  profit ;  from  this  absurd 
and  false  principle  flow  the  commonplace,  insipid  jokes, 
and  insults  upon  the  clergy.  With  these  people,  every 
priest,  of  every  religion,  is  either  a  public  or  a  concealed 
unbeliever,  drunkard,  and  whoremaster;  whereas,  I  con- 
ceive, that  priests  are  extremely  like  other  men,  and  neither 
the  better  nor  the  worse  for  wearing  a  gown  or  a  surplice: 
but  if  they  are  different  from  other  people,  probably  it  is 
rather  on  the  side  of  religion  and  morality,  or,  at  least, 
decency,  from  their  education  and  manner  of  life. 

Another  common  topic  for  false  wit,  and  cool  raillery,  is 
matrimony.  Every  man  and  his  wife  hate  each  other  cor- 
dially, whatever  they  may  pretend,  in  public,  to  the  con- 
trary. The  husband  certainly  wishes  his  wife  at  the  devil, 
and  the  wife  certainly  cuckolds  her  husband.  Whereas,  I 
presume,  that  men  and  their  wives  neither  love  nor  hate 
each  other  the  more,  upon  account  of  the  form  of  matri- 
mony which  has  been  said  over  them.  The  cohabitation, 
indeed,  which  is  the  consequence  of  matrimony,  make* 


72  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

them  either  love  or  hate  more,  accordingly  as  they  re- 
spectively deserve  it;  but  that  would  be  exactly  the  same 
between  any  man  and  woman  who  lived  together  without 
being  married. 

These  and  many  other  commonplace  reflections  upon 
nations  or  professions  in  general  (which  are  at  least  as 
often  false  as  true),  are  the  poor  refuge  of  people  who 
have  neither  wit  nor  invention  of  their  own,  but  endeavor 
to  shine  in  company  by  second-hand  finery.  I  always  put 
these  pert  jackanapes  out  of  countenance,  by  looking  extremely 
grave,  when  they  expect  that  I  should  laugh  at  their  pleas- 
antries ;  and  by  saying  WELL,  AND  so,  as  if  they  had  not 
done,  and  that  the  sting  were  still  to  come.  This  discon- 
certs them,  as  they  have  no  resources  in  themselves,  and 
have  but  one  set  of  jokes  to  live  upon.  Men  of  parts  are 
not  reduced  to  these  shifts,  and  have  the  utmost  contempt 
for  them,  they  find  proper  subjects  enough  for  either  useful 
or  lively  conversations ;  they  can  be  witty  without  satire  or 
commonplace,  and  serious  without  being  dull.  The  fre- 
quentation  of  courts  checks  this  petulancy  of  manners ;  the 
good-breeding  and  circumspection  which  are  necessary,  and 
only  to  be  learned  there,  correct  those  pertnesses.  I  do  not 
doubt  but  that  you  are  improved  in  your  manners  by  the 
short  visit  which  you  have  made  at  Dresden ;  and  the  other 
courts,  which  I  intend  that  you  shall  be  better  acquainted 
with,  will  gradually  smooth  you  up  to  the  highest  polish.  In 
courts,  a  versatility  of  genius  and  softness  of  manners  are 
absolutely  necessary;  which  some  people  mistake  for  ab- 
ject flattery,  and  having  no  opinion  of  one's  own;  whereas 
it  is  only  the  decent  and  genteel  manner  of  maintaining 
your  own  opinion,  and  possibly  of  bringing  other  people 
to  it.  The  manner  of  doing  things  is  often  more  important 
than  the  things  themselves ;  and  the  very  same  thing  may 
become  either  pleasing  or  offensive,  by  the  manner  of  say- 
ing or  doing  it.  Materia.m  superabat  opus,  is  often  said  of 
works  of  sculpture ;  where  though  the  materials  were  val- 
uable, as  silver,  gold,  etc.,  the  workmanship  was  still  more 
so.  This  holds  true,  applied  to  manners ;  which  adorn 
whatever  knowledge  or  parts  people  may  have;  and  even 
make  a  greater  impression  upon  nine  in  ten  of  mankind, 
than  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  materials.  On  the  other 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  75 

hand,  remember,  that  what  Horace  says  of  good  writing  is 
justly  applicable  to  those  who  would  make  a  good  figure 
in  courts,  and  distinguish  themselves  in  the  shining  parts 
of  life;  Sapere  est  principium  et  fons.  A  man  who,  with- 
out a  good  fund  of  knowledge  and  parts,  adopts  a  court 
life,  makes  the  most  ridiculous  figure  imaginable.  He  is  a 
machine,  little  superior  to  the  court  clock ;  and,  as  this 
points  out  the  hours,  he  points  out  the  frivolous  employ- 
ment of  them.  He  is,  at  most,  a  comment  upon  the  clock; 
and  according  to  the  hours  that  it  strikes,  tells  you  now  it 
is  levee,  now  dinner,  now  supper  time,  etc.  The  end  which 
I  propose  by  your  education,  and  which  (IF  YOU  PLEASE) 
I  shall  certainly  attain,  is  to  unite  in  you  all  the  knowledge 
of  a  scholar  with  the  manners  of  a  courtier;  and  to  join, 
what  is  seldom  joined  by  any  of  my  countrymen,  books 
and  the  world.  They  are  commonly  twenty  years  old  before 
they  have  spoken  to  anybody  above  their  schoolmaster,  and 
the  fellows  of  their  college.  If  they  happen  to  have  learn- 
ing, it  is  only  Greek  and  Latin,  but  not  one  word  of  modern 
history,  or  modern  languages.  Thus  prepared,  they  go 
abroad,  as  they  call  it;  but,  in  truth,  they  stay  at  home  all 
that  while ;  for  being  very  awkward,  confoundedly  ashamed, 
and  not  speaking  the  languages,  they  go  into  no  foreign 
company,  at  least  none  good ;  but  dine  and  sup  with  one 
another  only  at  the  tavern.  Such  examples,  I  am  sure,  you 
will  not  imitate,  but  even  carefully  avoid.  You  will  always 
take  care  to  keep  the  best  company  in  the  place  where  you 
are,  which  is  the  only  use  of  traveling:  and  (by  the  way) 
the  pleasures  of  a  gentleman  are  only  to  be  found  in  the 
best  company;  for  that  riot  which  low  company,  most 
falsely  and  impudently,  call  pleasure,  is  only  the  sensuality 
of  a  swine. 

I  ask  hard  and  uninterrupted  study  from  you  but  one 
year  more;  after  that,  you  shall  have  every  day  more  and 
more  time  for  your  amusements.  A  few  hours  each  day 
will  then  be  sufficient  for  application,  and  the  others  cannot 
be  better  employed  than  in  the  pleasures  of  good  company. 
Adieu. 


74  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER     XXXIX 

LONDON,  May  17,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  received  yesterday  your  letter  of  the  i6th, 
N.  S.,  and  have,  in  consequence  of  it,  written  this 
day  to  Sir  Charles  Williams,  to  thank  him  for  all 
the  civilities  he  has  shown  you.  Your  first  setting  out  at 
court  has,  I  find,  been  very  favorable ;  and  his  Polish 
Majesty  has  distinguished  you.  I  hope  you  received  that 
mark  of  distinction  with  respect  and  with  steadiness,  which 
is  the  proper  behavior  of  a  man  of  fashion.  People  of  a 
low,  obscure  education  cannot  stand  the  rays  of  greatness; 
they  are  frightened  out  of  their  wits  when  kings  and  great 
men  speak  to  them ;  they  are  awkward,  ashamed,  and  do 
not  know  what  nor  how  to  answer;  whereas,  les  honndtes 
gens  are  not  dazzled  by  superior  rank  :  they  know,  and  pay 
all  the  respect  that  is  due  to  it;  but  they  do  it  without 
being  disconcerted ;  and  can  converse  just  as  easily  with  a 
king  as  with  any  one  of  his  subjects.  That  is  the  great 
advantage  of  being  introduced  young  into  good  company, 
and  being  used  early  to  converse  with  one's  superiors.  How 
many  men  have  I  seen  here,  who,  after  having  had  the 
full  benefit  of  an  English  education,  first  at  school,  and  then 
at  the  university,  when  they  have  been  presented  to  the 
king,  did  not  know  whether  they  stood  upon  their  heads 
or  their  heels!  If  the  king  spoke  to  them,  they  were  anni- 
hilated ;  they  trembled,  endeavored  to  put  their  hands  in 
their  pockets,  and  missed  them ;  let  their  hats  fall,  and  were 
ashamed  to  take  them  up;  and  in  short,  put  themselves  in 
every  attitude  but  the  right,  that  is,  the  easy  and  natural 
one.  The  characteristic  of  a  well-bred  man,  is  to  converse 
with  his  inferiors  without  insolence,  and  with  his  superiors 
with  respect  and  ease.  He  talks  to  kings  without  concern; 
he  trifles  with  women  of  the  first  condition  with  familiarity, 
gayety,  but  respect;  and  converses  with  his  equals,  whether 
he  is  acquainted  with  them  or  not,  upon  general  common 
topics,  that  are  not,  however,  quite  frivolous,  without  the 
least  concern  of  mind  or  awkwardness  of  body:  neither  of 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  75 

which  can  appear  to  advantage,  but  when  they  are  perfectly 
easy. 

The  tea-things  which  Sir  Charles  Williams  has  given  you, 
I  would  have  you  make  a  present  of  to  your  Mamma,  and 
send  them  to  her  by  Duval  when  he  returns.  You  owe  her 
not  only  duty,  but  likewise  great  obligations  for  her  care 
and  tenderness;  and,  consequently,  cannot  take  too  many 
opportunities  of  showing  your  gratitude. 

I  am  impatient  to  receive  your  account  of  Dresden,  and 
likewise  your  answers  to  the  many  questions  that  I  asked 
you. 

Adieu  for  this  time,  and  God  bless  you! 


LETTER    XL 

LONDON,  May  27,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  This  and  the  two  next  years  make  so  im- 
portant a  period  of  your  life,  that  I  cannot  help 
repeating  to  you  my  exhortations,  my  commands, 
and  (what  I  hope  will  be  still  more  prevailing  with  you 
than  either)  my  earnest  entreaties,  to  employ  them  well. 
Every  moment  that  you  now  lose,  is  so  much  character  and 
advantage  lost ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  every  moment  that 
you  now  employ  usefully,  is  so  much  time  wisely  laid  out, 
at  most  prodigious  interest.  These  two  years  must  lay  the 
foundations  of  all  the  knowledge  that  you  will  ever  have  ; 
you  may  build  upon  them  afterward  as  much  as  you  please, 
but  it  will  be  too  late  to  lay  any  new  ones.  Let  me  beg 
of  you,  therefore,  to  grudge  no  labor  nor  pains  to  acquire, 
in  time,  that  stock  of  knowledge,  without  which  you  never 
can  rise,  but  must  make  a  very  insignificant  figure  in  the 
world.  Consider  your  own  situation  ;  you  have  not  the 
advantage  of  rank  or  fortune  to  bear  you  up ;  I  shall,  very 
probably,  be  out  of  the  world  before  you  can  properly  be  said 
to  be  in  it.  What  then  will  you  have  to  rely  on  but  your 
own  merit?  That  alone  must  raise  you,  and  that  alone  will 
raise  you,  if  you  have  but  enough  of  it.  I  have  often 
heard  and  read  of  oppressed  and  unrewarded  merit,  but  I 
have  oftener  (I  might  say  always)  seen  great  merit  make 


76  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

its  way,  and  meet  with  its  reward,  to  a  certain  degree  at 
least,  in  spite  of  all  difficulties.  By  merit,  I  mean  the 
moral  virtues,  knowledge,  and  manners  ;  as  to  the  moral 
virtues,  I  say  nothing  to  you ;  they  speak  best  for  themselves, 
nor  can  I  suspect  that  they  want  any  recommendation  with 
you ;  I  will  therefore  only  assure  you,  that  without  them 
you  will  be  most  unhappy. 

As  to  knowledge,  I  have  often  told  you,  and  I  am  per- 
suaded you  are  thoroughly  convinced,  how  absolutely  neces- 
sary it  is  to  you,  whatever  your  destination  may  be.  But 
as  knowledge  has  a  most  extensive  meaning,  and  as  the  life 
of  man  is  not  long  enough  to  acquire,  nor  his  mind  capa- 
ble of  entertaining  and  digesting,  all  parts  of  knowledge,  I 
will  point  out  those  to  which  you  should  particularly  apply, 
and  which,  by  application,  you  may  make  yourself  perfect 
master  of.  Classical  knowledge,  that  is,  Greek  and  Latin, 
is  absolutely  necessary  for  everybody;  because  everybody 
has  agreed  to  think  and  to  call  it  so.  And  the  word  ILLIT- 
ERATE, in  its  common  acceptation,  means  a  man  who  is 
ignorant  of  those  two  languages.  You  are  by  this  time,  I 
hope,  pretty  near  master  of  both,  so  that  a  small  part  of 
the  day  dedicated  to  them,  for  two  years  more,  will  make 
you  perfect  in  that  study.  Rhetoric,  logic,  a  little  geome- 
try, and  a  general  notion  of  astronomy,  must,  in  their  turns, 
have  their  hours  too ;  not  that  I  desire  you  should  be  deep 
in  any  one  of  these ;  but  it  is  fit  you  should  know  some- 
thing of  them  all.  The  knowledge  more  particularly  use- 
ful and  necessary  for  you,  considering  your  destination, 
consists  of  modern  languages,  modern  history,  chronology, 
and  geography,  the  laws  of  nations,  and  the  jus  publicum 
Imperil.  You  must  absolutely  speak  all  the  modern  lan- 
guages, as  purely  and  correctly  as  the  natives  of  the  respective 
countries :  for  whoever  does  not  speak  a  language  per- 
fectly and  easily,  will  never  appear  to  advantage  in  con- 
versation, nor  treat  with  others  in  it  upon  equal  terms.  As 
for  French,  you  have  it  very  well  already;  and  must  neces- 
sarily, from  the  universal  usage  of  that  language,  know  it 
better  and  better  every  day  :  so  that  I  am  in  no  pain  about 
that.  German,  I  suppose,  you  know  pretty  well  by  this 
time,  and  will  be  quite  master  of  it  before  you  leave  Leip- 
sig :  at  least,  I  am  sure  you  may.  Italian  and  Spanish  will 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  77 

come  in  their  turns,  and,  indeed,  they  are  both  so  easy,  to 
one  who  knows  Latin  and  French,  that  neither  of  them 
will  cost  you  much  time  or  trouble.  Modern  history,  by 
which  I  mean  particularly  the  history  of  the  last  three  cen- 
turies, should  be  the  object  of  your  greatest  and  constant 
attention,  especially  those  parts  of  it  which  relate  more  im- 
mediately to  the  great  powers  of  Europe.  This  study  you 
will  carefully  connect  with  chronology  and  geography ;  that 
is,  you  will  remark  and  retain  the  dates  of  every  important 
«vent ;  and  always  read  with  the  map  by  you,  in  which 
you  will  constantly  look  for  every  place  mentioned  :  this  is 
the  only  way  of  retaining  geography  ;  for,  though  it  is  soon 
learned  by  the  lump,  yet,  when  only  so  learned,  it  is  still 
sooner  forgot. 

Manners,  though  the  last,  and  it  may  be  the  least  ingredi- 
ent of  real  merit,  are,  however,  very  far  from  being  useless  in 
its  composition ;  they  adorn,  and  give  an  additional  force 
and  luster  to  both  virtue  and  knowledge.  They  prepare 
and  smooth  the  way  for  the  progress  of  both;  and 
are,  I  fear,  with  the  bulk  of  mankind,  more  engaging 
than  either.  Remember,  then,  the  infinite  advantage  of 
manners ;  cultivate  and  improve  your  own  to  the  utmost : 
good  sense  will  suggest  the  great  rules  to  you,  good  com- 
pany will  do  the  rest.  Thus  you  see  how  much  you  have 
to  do;  and  how  little  time  to  do  it  in:  for  when  you  are 
thrown  out  into  the  world,  as  in  a  couple  of  years  you 
must  be,  the  unavoidable  dissipation  of  company,  and  the 
necessary  avocations  of  some  kind  of  business  or  other,  will 
leave  you  no  time  to  undertake  new  branches  of  knowledge : 
you  may,  indeed,  by  a  prudent  allotment  of  your  time,  reserve 
some  to  complete  and  finish  the  building;  but  you  will 
never  find  enough  to  lay  new  foundations.  I  have  such 
an  opinion  of  your  understanding,  that  I  am  convinced  you 
are  sensible  of  these  truths;  and  that,  however  hard  and 
laborious  your  present  uninterrupted  application  may  seem 
to  you,  you  will  rather  increase  than  lessen  it.  For  God's 
sake,  my  dear  boy,  do  not  squander  away  one  moment  of 
your  time,  for  every  moment  may  be  now  most  usefully 
employed.  Your  future  fortune,  character,  and  figure  in  the 
world,  entirely  depend  upon  your  use  or  abuse  of  the  two 
next  years.  If  you  do  but  employ  them  well,  what  may 


78  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

you  not  reasonably  expect  to  be,  in  time  ?  And  if  you  do 
not,  what  may  I  not  reasonably  fear  you  will  be  ?  You  are 
the  only  one  I  ever  knew,  of  this  country,  whose  education 
was,  from  the  beginning,  calculated  for  the  department  of 
foreign  affairs;  in  consequence  of  which,  if  you  will  inva- 
riably pursue,  and  diligently  qualify  yourself  for  that  object, 
you  may  make  yourself  absolutely  necessary  to  the  govern- 
ment, and,  after  having  received  orders  as  a  minister 
abroad,  send  orders,  in  your  turn,  as  Secretary  of  State  at 
home.  Most  of  our  ministers  abroad  have  taken  up  that 
department  occasionally,  without  having  ever  thought  of 
foreign  affairs  before ;  many  of  them,  without  speaking  any 
one  foreign  language;  and  all  of  them  without  manners 
which  are  absolutely  necessary  toward  being  well  received, 
and  making  a  figure  at  foreign  courts.  They  do  the 
business  accordingly,  that  is,  very  ill :  they  never  get  into  the 
secrets  of  these  courts,  for  want  of  insinuation  and  address: 
they  do  not  guess  at  their  views,  for  want  of  knowing  their 
interests:  and,  at  last,  finding  themselves  very  unfit  for,  soon 
grow  weary  of  their  commissions,  and  are  impatient  to  return 
home,  where  they  are  but  too  justly  laid  aside  and  neglected. 
Every  moment's  conversation  may,  if  you  please,  be  of  use 
to  you ;  in  this  view,  every  public  event,  which  is  the  com- 
mon topic  of  conversation,  gives  you  an  opportunity  of  get- 
ting some  information.  For  example,  the  preliminaries  of 
peace,  lately  concluded  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  will  be  the  common 
subject  of  most  conversations;  in  which  you  will  take  care 
to  ask  the  proper  questions:  as,  what  is  the  meaning  of  the 
Assiento  contract  for  negroes,  between  England  and  Spain; 
what  the  annual  ship;  when  stipulated;  upon  what  account 
suspended,  etc.  You  will  likewise  inform  yourself  about 
Guastalla,  now  given  to  Don  Philip,  together  with  Parma 
and  Placentia ;  who  they  belonged  to  before ;  what  claim  or 
pretensions  Don  Philip  had  to  them ;  what  they  are  worth ; 
in  short,  everything  concerning  them.  The  cessions  made 
by  the  Queen  of  Hungary  to  the  King  of  Sardinia,  are,  by 
these  preliminaries,  confirmed  and  secured  to  him:  you  will 
inquire,  therefore,  what  they  are,  and  what  they  are  worth. 
This  is  the  kind  of  knowledge  which  you  should  be  most 
thoroughly  master  of,  and  in  which  conversation  will  help 
you  almost  as  much  as  books :  but  both  are  best.  There 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  79 

are  histories  of  every  considerable  treaty,  from  that  of 
Westphalia  to  that  of  Utrecht,  inclusively ;  all  which  I  would 
advise  you  to  read.  Pere  Bougeant's,  of  the  treaty  of  West- 
phalia, is  an  excellent  one;  those  of  Nimeguen,  Ryswick, 
and  Utrecht,  are  not  so  well  written;  but  are,  however,  very 
useful.  L? Histoire  des  Trails  de  Paix,  in  two  volumes, 
folio,  which  I  recommended  to  you  some  time  ago,  is  a  book 
that  you  should  often  consult,  when  you  hear  mention  made 
of  any  treaty  concluded  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

Upon  the  whole,  if  you  have  a  mind  to  be  considerable, 
and  to  shine  hereafter,  you  must  labor  hard  now.  No 
quickness  of  parts,  no  vivacity,  will  do  long,  or  go  far,  with- 
out a  solid  fund  of  knowledge;  and  that  fund  of  knowledge 
will  amply  repay  all  the  pains  that  you  can  take  in  acquir- 
ing it.  Reflect  seriously,  within  yourself,  upon  all  this,  and 
ask  yourself  whether  I  can  have  any  view,  but  your  interest, 
in  all  that  I  recommend  to  you.  It  is  the  result  of  my 
experience,  and  flows  from  that  tenderness  and  affection  with 
which,  while  you  deserve  them,  I  shall  be,  Yours. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte,  and  tell  him  that 
I  have  received  his  letter  of  the  24th,  N.  S. 


LETTER  XLI 

LONDON,  May  31,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  have  received,  with  great  satisfaction,  your 
letter  of  the  28th  N.  S.,  from  Dresden:  it  finishes 
your  short  but  clear  account  of  the  Reformation ; 
which  is  one  of  those  interesting  periods  of  modern  history, 
that  can  not  be  too  much  studied  nor  too  minutely  known 
by  you.  There  are  many  great  events  in  history,  which, 
when  once  they  are  over,  leave  things  in  the  situation  in 
which  they  found  them.  As,  for  instance,  the  late  war; 
which,  excepting  the  establishment  in  Italy  for  Don  Philip, 
leaves  things  pretty  much  in  statu  quo;  a  mutual  restitution 
of  all  acquisitions  being  stipulated  by  the  preliminaries  of 
the  peace.  Such  events  undoubtedly  deserve  your  notice, 
but  yet  not  so  minutely  as  those,  which  are  not  only 


8o  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

important  in  themselves,  but  equally  (or  it  may  be  more) 
important  by  their  consequences  too  :  of  this  latter  sort 
were  the  progress  of  the  Christian  religion  in  Europe;  the 
invasion  of  the  Goths;  the  division  of  the  Roman  empire 
into  Western  and  Eastern ;  the  establishment  and  rapid 
progress  of  Mahometanism ;  and,  lastly,  the  Reformation;  all 
which  events  produced  the  greatest  changes  in  the  affairs 
of  Europe,  and  to  one  or  other  of  which,  the  present  situ- 
ation of  all  the  parts  of  it  is  to  be  traced  up. 

Next  to  these,  are  those  events  which  more  immediately 
affect  particular  states  and  kingdoms,  and  which  are  reckoned 
merely  local,  though  their  influence  may,  and  indeed  very 
often  does,  indirectly,  extend  itself  further,  such  as  civil 
wars  and  revolutions,  from  which  a  total  change  in  the 
form  of  government  frequently  flows.  The  civil  wars  in 
England,  in  the  reign  of  King  Charles  I.,  produced  an 
entire  change  of  the  government  here,  from  a  limited  mon- 
archy to  a  commonwealth,  at  first,  and  afterward  to 
absolute  power,  usurped  by  Cromwell,  under  the  pretense  of 
protection,  and  the  title  of  Protector. 

The  Revolution  in  1688,  instead  of  changing,  preserved 
our  form  of  government;  which  King  James  II.  intended  to 
subvert,  and  establish  absolute  power  in  the  Crown. 

These  are  the  two  great  epochs  in  our  English  history, 
which  I  recommend  to  your  particular  attention. 

The  league  formed  by  the  House  of  Guise,  and  fomented 
by  the  artifices  of  Spain,  is  a  most  material  part  of  the 
history  of  France.  The  foundation  of  it  was  laid  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  II.,  but  the  superstructure  was  carried  on 
through  the  successive  reigns  of  Francis  II.,  Charles  IX.  and 
Henry  III.,  till  at  last  it  was  crushed,  partly  by  the  arms, 
but  more  by  the  apostasy  of  Henry  IV. 

In  Germany,  great  events  have  been  frequent,  by  which 
the  imperial  dignity  has  always  either  gotten  or  lost;  and  so 
far  they  have  affected  the  constitution  of  the  empire.  The 
House  of  Austria  kept  that  dignity  to  itself  for  near  two 
hundred  years,  during  which  time  it  was  always  attempting 
to  extend  its  power,  by  encroaching  upon  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  the  other  states  of  the  empire;  till  at  the  end 
of  the  bellum  tricennale,  the  treaty  of  Munster,  of  which 
France  is  guarantee,  fixed  the  respective  claims. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  81 

Italy  has  been  constantly  torn  to  pieces,  from  the  time  of 
the  Goths,  by  the  Popes  and  the  Anti-popes,  severally  sup- 
ported by  other  great  powers  of  Europe,  more  as  their  inter- 
ests than  as  their  religion  led  them;  by  the  pretensions  also 
of  France,  and  the  House  of  Austria,  upon  Naples,  Sicily, 
and  the  Milanese;  not  to  mention  the  various  lesser  causes 
of  squabbles  there,  for  the  little  states,  such  as  Ferrara, 
Parma,  Montserrat,  etc. 

The  Popes,  till  lately,  have  always  taken  a  considerable 
part,  and  had  great  influence  in  the  affairs  of  Europe ; 
their  excommunications,  bulls,  and  indulgences,  stood  in- 
stead of  armies  in  the  time  of  ignorance  and  bigotry ;  but 
now  that  mankind  is  better  informed,  the  spiritual  author- 
ity of  the  Pope  is  not  only  less  regarded,  but  even  despised 
by  the  Catholic  princes  themselves;  and  his  Holiness  is 
actually  little  more  than  Bishop  of  Rome,  with  large  tem- 
poralities, which  he  is  not  likely  to  keep  longer  than  till 
the  other  greater  powers  in  Italy  shall  find  their  conve- 
niency  in  taking  them  from  him.  Among  the  modern 
Popes,  Leo  the  Tenth,  Alexander  the  Sixth,  and  Sextus 
Quintus,  deserve  your  particular  notice;  the  first,  among 
other  things,  for  his  own  learning  and  taste,  and  for  his 
encouragement  of  the  reviving  arts  and  sciences  in  Italy. 
Under  his  protection,  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics  were 
most  excellently  translated  into  Italian;  painting  flourished 
and  arrived  at  its  perfection ;  and  sculpture  came  so  near 
the  ancients,  that  the  works  of  his  time,  both  in  marble 
and  bronze,  are  now  called  Antico-Moderno. 

Alexander  the  Sixth,  together  with  his  natural  son  Caesar 
Borgia,  was  famous  for  his  wickedness,  in  which  he,  and 
his  son  too,  surpassed  all  imagination.  Their  lives  are  well 
worth  your  reading.  They  were  poisoned  themselves  by 
the  poisoned  wine  which  they  had  prepared  for  others ; 
the  father  died  of  it,  but  Caesar  recovered. 

Sixtus  the  Fifth  was  the  son  of  a  swineherd,  and  raised 
himself  to  the  popedom  by  his  abilities :  he  was  a  great 
knave,  but  an  able  and  singular  one. 

Here  is  history  enough  for  to-day:    you    shall  have  some 
more  soon.     Adieu. 
6 


82  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER    XLII 

LONDON,  June  21,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  Your  very  bad  enunciation  runs  so  much 
in  my  head,  and  gives  me  such  real  concern,  that  it 
will  be  the  subject  of  this,  and,  I  believe,  of  many 
more  letters.  I  congratulate  both  you  arid  myself,  that  I 
was  informed  of  it  (as  I  hope)  in  time  to  prevent  it :  and 
shall  ever  think  myself,  as  hereafter  you  will,  I  am  sure, 
think  yourself,  infinitely  obliged  to  Sir  Charles  Williams 
for  informing  me  of  it.  Good  God!  if  this  ungraceful  and 
disagreeable  manner  of  speaking  had,  either  by  your  neg- 
ligence or  mine,  become  habitual  to  you,  as  in  a  couple  of 
years  more  it  would  have  been,  what  a  figure  would  you 
have  made  in  company,  or  in  a  public  assembly?  Who 
would  have  liked  you  in  the  one  or  attended  you  in  the 
other?  Read  what  Cicero  and  Quintilian  say  of  enuncia- 
tion, and  see  what  a  stress  they  lay  upon  the  gracefulness 
of  it ;  nay,  Cicero  goes  further,  and  even  maintains,  that  a 
good  figure  is  necessary  for  an  orator;  and  particularly  that 
he  must  not  be  vastus,  that  is,  overgrown  and  clumsy. 
He  shows  by  it  that  he  knew  mankind  well,  and  knew 
the  powers  of  an  agreeable  figure  and  a  graceful  manner. 
Men,  as  well  as  women,  are  much  oftener  led  by  their 
hearts  than  by  their  understandings.  The  way  to  the  heart 
is  through  the  senses;  please  their  eyes  and  their  ears  and 
the  work  is  half  done.  I  have  frequently  known  a  man's 
fortune  decided  for  ever  by  his  first  address.  If  it  is  pleas- 
ing, people  are  hurried  involuntarily  into  a  persuasion  that 
he  has  a  merit,  which  possibly  he  has  not;  as,  on  the 
other  hand,  if  it  is  ungraceful,  they  are  immediately  preju- 
diced against  him,  and  unwilling  to  allow  him  the  merit 
which  it  may  be  he  has.  Nor  is  this  sentiment  so  unjust 
and  unreasonable  as  at  first  it  may  seem;  for  if  a  man  has 
parts,  he  must  know  of  what  infinite  consequence  it  is  to 
him  to  have  a  graceful  manner  of  speaking,  and  a  genteel 
and  pleasing  address;  he  will  cultivate  and  improve  them 
to  the  utmost.  Your  figure  is  a  good  one ;  you  have  no 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  83 

natural  defect  in  the  organs  of  speech ;  your  address  may  be 
engaging,  and  your  manner  of  speaking  graceful,  if  you 
will ;  so  that  if  you  are  not  so,  neither  I  nor  the  world 
can  ascribe  it  to  anything  but  your  want  of  parts.  What  is 
the  constant  and  just  observation  as  to  all  actors  upon  the 
stage?  Is  it  not,  that  those  who  have  the  best  sense  al- 
ways speak  the  best,  though  they  may  happen  not  to  have 
the  best  voices?  They  will  speak  plainly,  distinctly,  and 
with  the  proper  emphasis,  be  their  voices  ever  so  bad. 
Had  Roscius  spoken  QUICK,  THICK,  and  UNGRACEFULLY,  I 
will  answer  for  it,  that  Cicero  would  not  have  thought  him 
worth  the  oration  which  he  made  in  his  favor.  Words 
were  given  us  to  communicate  our  ideas  by:  and  there  must 
be  something  inconceivably  absurd  in  uttering  them  in  such 
a  manner  as  that  either  people  cannot  understand  them,  or 
will  not  desire  to  understand  them.  I  tell  you,  truly  and 
sincerely,  that  I  shall  judge  of  your  parts  by  your  speaking 
gracefully  or  ungracefully.  If  you  have  parts,  you  will 
never  be  at  rest  till  you  have  brought  yourself  to  a  habit 
of  speaking  most  gracefully ;  for  I  aver,  that  it  is  in  your 
power.  You  will  desire  Mr.  Harte,  that  you  may  read 
aloud  to  him  every  day;  and  that  he  will  interrupt  and 
correct  you  every  time  that  you  read  too  fast,  do  not  ob- 
serve the  proper  stops,  or  lay  a  wrong  emphasis.  You  will 
take  care  to  open  your  teeth  when  you  speak;  to  articulate 
every  word  distinctly ;  and  to  beg  of  Mr.  Harte,  Mr.  Eliot, 
or  whomsoever  you  speak  to,  to  remind  and  stop  you,  if 
you  ever  fall  into  the  rapid  and  unintelligible  mutter. 
You  will  even  read  aloud  to  yourself,  and  time  your  utter- 
ance to  your  own  ear ;  and  read  at  first  much  slower  than 
you  need  to  do,  in  order  to  correct  yourself  of  that  shame- 
ful trick  of  speaking  faster  than  you  ought.  In  short,  if 
you  think  right,  you  will  make  it  your  business,  your  study, 
and  your  pleasure  to  speak  well.  Therefore,  what  I  have 
said  in  this,  and  in  my  last,  is  more  than  sufficient,  if  you 
have  sense ;  and  ten  times  more  would  not  be  sufficient,  if 
you  have  not;  so  here  I  rest  it. 

Next  to  graceful  speaking,  a  genteel  carriage,  and  a 
graceful  manner  of  presenting  yourself,  are  extremely  neces- 
sary, for  they  are  extremely  engaging  :  and  carelessness  in 
these  points  is  much  more  unpardonable  in  a  young  fellow 


84  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

than  affectation.  It  shows  an  offensive  indifference  about 
pleasing.  I  am  told  by  one  here,  who  has  seen  you  lately, 
that  you  are  awkward  in  your  motions,  and  negligent  of 
your  person:  I  am  sorry  for  both;  and  so  will  you  be, 
when  it  will  be  too  late,  if  you  continue  so  some  time 
longer.  Awkwardness  of  carriage  is  very  alienating;  and 
a  total  negligence  of  dress  and  air  is  an  impertinent  insult 

upon    custom    and    fashion.      You    remember   Mr. very 

well,  I  am  sure,  and  you  must  consequently  remember  his 
extreme  awkwardness  :  which,  I  can  assure  you,  has  been  a 
great  clog  to  his  parts  and  merit,  that  have,  with  much 
difficulty,  but  barely  counterbalanced  it  at  last.  Many,  to 
whom  I  have  formerly  commended  him,  have  answered  me, 
that  they  were  sure  he  could  not  have  parts,  because  he 
was  so  awkward  :  so  much  are  people,  as  I  observed  to  you 
before,  taken  by  the  eye.  Women  have  great  influence  as 
to  a  man's  fashionable  character;  and  an  awkward  man 
will  never  have  their  votes ;  which,  by  the  way,  are  very 
numerous,  and  much  oftener  counted  than  weighed.  You 
should  therefore  give  some  attention  to  your  dress,  and  the 
gracefulness  of  your  motions.  I  believe,  indeed,  that  you 
have  no  perfect  model  for  either  at  Leipsig,  to  form  your- 
self upon ;  but,  however,  do  not  get  a  habit  of  neglecting 
either;  and  attend  properly  to  both,  when  you  go  to  courts, 
where  they  are  very  necessary,  and  where  you  will  have 
good  masters  and  good  models  for  both.  Your  exercises  of 
riding,  fencing,  and  dancing,  will  civilize  and  fashion  your 
body  and  your  limbs,  and  give  you,  if  you  will  but  take 
it,  Fair  d'un  honndte  homme. 

I  will  now  conclude  with  suggesting  one  reflection  to 
you;  which  is,  that  you  should  be  sensible  of  your  good 
fortune,  in  having  one  who  interests  himself  enough  in  you, 
to  inquire  into  your  faults,  in  order  to  inform  you  of  them. 
Nobody  but  myself  would  be  so  solicitous,  either  to  know 
or  correct  them ;  so  that  you  might  consequently  be  ignorant 
of  them  yourself;  for  our  own  self-love  draws  a  thick  veil 
between  us  and  our  faults.  But  when  you  hear  yours  from 
me,  you  may  be  sure  that  you  hear  them  from  one  who  for 
your  sake  only  desires  to  correct  them;  from  one  whom  you 
cannot  suspect  of  any  partiality  but  in  your  favor;  and 
from  one  who  heartily  wishes  that  his  care  of  you,  as  a 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  85 

father,  may,  in  a  little  time,  render  every  care  unnecessary 
but  that  of  a  friend.     Adieu. 

P.  S.     I  condole   with  you    for   the  untimely  and  violent 
death  of  the  tuneful  Matzel. 


LETTER     XLIII 

LONDON,  July  i,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  am  extremely  well  pleased  with  the  course 
of  studies  which  Mr.  Harte  informs  me  you  are  now 
in,  and  with  the  degree  of  application  which  he 
assures  me  you  have  to  them.  It  is  your  interest  to  do  so, 
as  the  advantage  will  be  all  your  own.  My  affection  for 
you  makes  me  both  wish  and  endeavor  that  you  may  turn 
out  well;  and,  according  as  you  do  turn  out,  I  shall  either 
be  proud  or  ashamed  of  you.  But  as  to  mere  interest,  in 
the  common  acceptation  of  that  word,  it  would  be  mine 
that  you  should  turn  out  ill;  for  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
that  whatever  you  have  from  me  shall  be  most  exactly  pro- 
portioned to  your  desert.  Deserve  a  great  deal,  and  you 
shall  have  a  great  deal;  deserve  a  little,  and  you  shall  have 
but  a  little;  and  be  good  for  nothing  at  all,  and,  I  assure 
you,  you  shall  have  nothing  at  all. 

Solid  knowledge,  as  I  have  often  told  you,  is  the  first 
and  great  foundation  of  your  future  fortune  and  character; 
for  I  never  mention  to  you  the  two  much  greater  points  of 
Religion  and  Morality,  because  I  cannot  possibly  suspect 
you  as  to  either  of  them.  This  solid  knowledge  you  are  in 
a  fair  way  of  acquiring;  you  may,  if  you  please;  and  I 
will  add,  that  nobody  ever  had  the  means  of  acquiring  it 
more  in  their  power  than  you  have.  But  remember,  that 
manners  must  adorn  knowledge,  and  smooth  its  way  through 
the  world.  Like  a  great  rough  diamond,  it  may  do  very 
well  in  a  closet  by  way  of  curiosity,  and  also  for  its  intrinsic 
value;  but  it  will  never  be  worn  or  shine  if  it  is  not  pol- 
ished. It  is  upon  this  article,  I  confess,  that  I  suspect  you 
the  most,  which  makes  me  recur  to  it  so  often;  for  I  fear 
that  you  are  apt  to  show  too  little  attention  to  everybody,  and 


86  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

too  much  contempt  to  many.  Be  convinced,  that  there  are 
no  persons  so  insignificant  and  inconsiderable,  but  may, 
some  time  or  other,  have  it  in  their  power  to  be  of  use  to 
you;  which  they  certainly  will  not,  if  you  have  once 
shown  them  contempt.  Wrongs  are  often  forgiven,  but 
contempt  never  is.  Our  pride  remembers  it  forever.  It 
implies  a  discovery  of  weaknesses,  which  we  are  much  more 
careful  to  conceal  than  crimes.  Many  a  man  will  confess 
his  crimes  to  a  common  friend,  but  I  never  knew  a  man 
who  would  tell  his  silly  weaknesses  to  his  most  intimate 
one  —  as  many  a  friend  will  tell  us  our  faults  without  reserve, 
who  will  not  so  much  as  hint  at  our  follies;  that  discovery 
is  too  mortifying  to  our  self-love,  either  to  tell  another,  or 
to  be  told  of  one's  self.  You  must,  therefore,  never  expect 
to  hear  of  your  weaknesses,  or  your  follies,  from  anybody 
but  me;  those  I  will  take  pains  to  discover,  and  whenever 
I  do,  shall  tell  you  of  them. 

Next  to  manners  are  exterior  graces  of  person  and  address, 
which  adorn  manners,  as  manners  adorn  knowledge.  To 
say  that  they  please,  engage,  and  charm,  as  they  most  indis- 
putably do,  is  saying  that  one  should  do  everything  possible 
to  acquire  them.  The  graceful  manner  of  speaking  is, 
particularly,  what  I  shall  always  holloa  in  your  ears,  as 
Hotspur  holloaed  MORTIMER  to  Henry  IV.,  and,  like  him 
too,  I  have  aimed  to  have  a  starling  taught  to  say,  SPEAK 
DISTINCTLY  AND  GRACEFULLY,  and  send  him  you,  to 
replace  your  loss  of  the  unfortunate  Matzel,  who,  by  the 
way,  I  am  told,  spoke  his  language  very  distinctly  and 
gracefully. 

As  by  this  time  you  must  be  able  to  write  German  tol- 
erably well,  I  desire  that  you  will  not  fail  to  write  a  German 
letter,  in  the  German  character,  once  every  fortnight,  to 
Mr.  Grevenkop  :  which  will  make  it  more  familiar  to  you, 
and  enable  me  to  judge  how  you  improve  in  it. 

Do  not  forget  to  answer  me  the  questions,  which  I  asked 
you  a  great  while  ago,  in  relation  to  the  constitution  of 
Saxony;  and  also  the  meaning  of  the  words  Landsassii  and 
Amptsassii. 

I  hope  you  do  not  forget  to  inquire  into  the  affairs  of 
trade  and  commerce,  nor  to  get  the  best  accounts  you  can 
of  the  commodities  and  manufactures,  exports  and  imports, 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  87 

of  the  several  countries  where  you  may  be,  and  their  gross 
value. 

I  would  likewise  have  you  attend  to  the  respective  coins, 
gold,  silver,  copper,  etc.,  and  their  value,  compared  with 
our  coins;  for  which  purpose  I  would  advise  you  to  put 
up,  in  a  separate  piece  of  paper,  one  piece  of  every  kind, 
wherever  you  shall  be,  writing  upon  it  the  name  and  the 
value.  Such  a  collection  will  be  curious  enough  in  itself; 
and  that  sort  of  knowledge  will  be  very  useful  to  you  in 
your  way  of  business,  where  the  different  value  of  money 
often  comes  in  question. 

I  am  going  to  Cheltenham  to-morrow,  less  for  my  health, 
which  is  pretty  good,  than  for  the  dissipation  and  amuse- 
ment of  the  journey.  I  shall  stay  about  a  fortnight. 

L'Abb6  Mably's  Droit  de  I Europe,  which  Mr.  Harte  is 
so  kind  as  to  send  me,  is  worth  your  reading.  Adieu. 


LETTER    XLIV 

CHELTENHAM,  July  6,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  Your  school-fellow,  Lord  Pulteney,*  set  out 
last  week  for  Holland,  and  will,  I  believe,  be  at 
Leipsig  soon  after  this  letter  :  you  will  take  care  to 
be  extremely  civil  to  him,  and  to  do  him  any  service  that 
you  can  while  you  stay  there ;  let  him  know  that  I  wrote 
to  you  to  do  so.  As  being  older,  he  should  know  more 
than  you  ;  in  that  case,  take  pains  to  get  up  to  him  ;  but 
if  he  does  not,  take  care  not  to  let  him  feel  his  inferiority. 
He  will  find  it  out  of  himself  without  your  endeavors  ;  and 
that  cannot  be  helped  :  but  nothing  is  more  insulting,  more 
mortifying  and  less  forgiven,  than  avowedly  to  take  pains 
to  make  a  man  feel  a  mortifying  inferiority  in  knowledge, 
rank,  fortune,  etc.  In  the  two  last  articles,  it  is  unjust, 
they  not  being  in  his  power  :  and  in  the  first  it  is  both 
ill-bred  and  ill-natured.  Good-breeding,  and  good-nature, 
do  incline  us  rather  to  raise  and  help  people  up  to  our- 
selves, than  to  mortify  and  depress  them,  and,  in  truth, 

*Only  child  of  the  Right  Hon.  William  Pulteney,  earl  of  Bath.     He 
died  before  his  father. 


88  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

our  own  private  interest  concurs  in  it,  as  it  is  making  our- 
selves so  many  friends,  instead  of  so  many  enemies.  The 
constant  practice  of  what  the  French  call  les  Attentions •,  is 
a  most  necessary  ingredient  in  the  art  of  pleasing  ;  they 
flatter  the  self-love  of  those  to  whom  they  are  shown  ; 
they  engage,  they  captivate,  more  than  things  of  much 
greater  importance.  The  duties  of  social  life  every  man  is 
obliged  to  discharge  ;  but  these  attentions  are  voluntary 
acts,  the  free-will  offerings  of  good-breeding  and  good- 
nature ;  they  are  received,  remembered,  and  returned  as 
such.  Women,  particularly,  have  a  right  to  them ;  and  any 
omission  in  that  respect  is  downright  ill-breeding. 

Do  you  employ  your  whole  time  in  the  most  useful  man- 
ner? I  do  not  mean,  do  you  study  all  day  long?  nor  do  I 
require  it.  But  I  mean,  do  you  make  the  most  of  the  re- 
spective allotments  of  your  time?  While  you  study,  is  it 
with  attention?  When  you  divert  yourself,  is  it  with  spirit? 
Your  diversions  may,  if  you  please,  employ  some  part  of 
your  time  very  usefully.  It  depends  entirely  upon  the  nature 
of  them.  If  they  are  futile  and  frivolous  it  is  time  worse 
than  lost,  for  they  will  give  you  an  habit  of  futility.  All 
gaming,  field-sports,  and  such  sort  of  amusements,  where 
neither  the  understanding  nor  the  senses  have  the  least 
share,  I  look  upon  as  frivolous,  and  as  the  resources  of  little 
minds,  who  either  do  not  think,  or  do  not  love  to  think. 
But  the  pleasures  of  a  man  of  parts  either  flatter  the  senses 
or  improve  the  mind  ;  I  hope  at  least,  that  there  is  not  one 
minute  of  the  day  in  which  you  do  nothing  at  all.  Inac- 
tion at  your  age  is  unpardonable. 

Tell  me  what  Greek  and  Latin  books  you  can  now  read 
with  ease.  Can  you  open  Demosthenes  at  a  venture,  and 
understand  him  ?  Can  you  get  through  an  <(  Oration w  of 
Cicero,  or  a  <(  Satire  *  of  Horace,  without  difficulty?  What 
German  books  do  you  read,  to  make  yourself  master  of  that 
language?  And  what  French  books  do  you  read  for  your 
amusement?  Pray  give  me  a  particular  and  true  account  of 
all  this ;  for  I  am  not  indifferent  as  to  any  one  thing  that 
relates  to  you.  As,  for  example,  I  hope  you  take  great 
care  to  keep  your  whole  person,  particularly  your  mouth, 
very  clean  ;  common  decency  requires  it,  besides  that  great 
cleanliness  is  very  conducive  to  health.  But  if  you  do  not 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  89 

keep  your  mouth  excessively  clean,  by  washing  it  carefully 
every  morning,  and  after  every  meal,  it  will  not  only  be 
apt  to  smell,  which  is  very  disgusting  and  indecent,  but 
your  teeth  will  decay  and  ache,  which  is  both  a  great  loss 
and  a  great  pain.  A  spruceness  of  dress  is  also  very  proper 
and  becoming  at  your  age ;  as  the  negligence  of  it  implies 
an  indifference  about  pleasing,  which  does  not  become  a 
young  fellow.  To  do  whatever  you  do  at  all  to  the  ut- 
most perfection,  ought  to  be  your  aim  at  this  time  of  your 
life ;  if  you  can  reach  perfection,  so  much  the  better  ;  but 
at  least,  by  attempting  it,  you  will  get  much  nearer  than 
if  you  never  attempted  it  at  all. 

Adieu !  SPEAK  GRACEFULLY  AND  DISTINCTLY,  if  you 
intend  to  converse  ever  with,  Yours. 

P.  S.  As  I  was  making  up  my  letter,  I  received  yours 
of  the  6th,  O.  S.  I  like  your  dissertation  upon  Preliminary 
Articles  and  Truces.  Your  definitions  of  both  are  true. 
Those  are  matters  which  I  would  have  you  be  master  of; 
they  belong  to  your  future  department.  But  remember  too, 
that  they  are  matters  upon  which  you  will  much  oftener 
have  occasion  to  speak  than  to  write ;  and  that,  conse- 
quently, it  is  full  as  necessary  to  speak  gracefully  and  dis- 
tinctly upon  them  as  to  write  clearly  and  elegantly.  I  find 
no  authority  among  the  ancients,  nor  indeed  among  the 
moderns,  for  indistinct  and  unintelligible  utterance.  The 
Oracles  indeed  meant  to  be  obscure  ;  but  then  it  was  by 
the  ambiguity  of  the  expression,  and  not  by  the  inarticula- 
tion  of  the  words.  For  if  people  had  not  thought,  at  least, 
they  understood  them,  they  would  neither  have  frequented 
nor  presented  them  as  they  did.  There  was  likewise  among 
the  ancients,  and  is  still  among  the  moderns,  a  sort  of  peo- 
ple called  Ventriloqui,  who  speak  from  their  bellies,  or 
make  the  voice  seem  to  come  from  some  other  part  of  the 
room  than  that  where  they  are.  But  these  Ventriloqui  speak 
very  distinctly  and  intelligibly.  The  only  thing,  then,  that 
I  can  find  like  a  precedent  for  your  way  of  speaking  (and 
I  would  willingly  help  you  to  one  if  I  could)  is  the  mod- 
ern art  de  persifler,  practiced  with  great  success  by  the 
Befits  maitres  at  Paris.  This  noble  art  consists  in  picking 
out  some  grave,  serious  man,  who  neither  understands  nor 


90  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

expects  raillery,  and  talking  to  him  very  quick,  and  in 
inarticulate  sounds  ;  while  the  man,  who  thinks  that  he 
did  not  hear  well,  or  attend  sufficiently,  says,  Monsieur?  or 
Plait-il?  a  hundred  times;  which  affords  matter  of  much 
mirth  to  those  ingenious  gentlemen.  Whether  you  would 
follow  this  precedent,  I  submit  to  you. 

Have  you  carried  no  English  or  French  comedies  or 
tragedies  with  you  to  Leipsig?  If  you  have,  I  insist  upon 
your  reciting  some  passages  of  them  every  day  to  Mr. 
Harte,  in  the  most  distinct  and  graceful  manner,  as  if  you 
were  acting  them  upon  a  stage. 

The  first  part  of  my  letter  is  more  than  an  answer  to 
your  questions  concerning  Lord  Pulteney. 


LETTER    XLV 

LONDON,  July  20,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  There  are  two  sorts  of  understandings;  one 
of  which  hinders  a  man  from  ever  being  consider- 
able, and  the  other  commonly  makes  him  ridiculous ; 
I  mean  the  lazy  mind,  and  the  trifling,  frivolous  mind. 
Yours,  I  hope,  is  neither.  The  lazy  mind  will  not  take 
the  trouble  of  going  to  the  bottom  of  anything;  but,  dis- 
couraged by  the  first  difficulties  ( and  everything  worth 
knowing  or  having  is  attained  with  some),  stops  short, 
contents  itself  with  easy,  and  consequently  superficial 
knowledge,  and  prefers  a  great  degree  of  ignorance  to  a 
small  degree  of  trouble.  These  people  either  think,  or 
represent  most  things  as  impossible;  whereas,  few  things 
are  so  to  industry  and  activity.  But  difficulties  seem  to 
them  impossibilities,  or  at  least  they  pretend  to  think  them 
so,  by  way  of  excuse  for  their  laziness.  An  hour's  atten- 
tion to  the  same  subject  is  too  laborious  for  them;  they  take 
everything  in  the  light  in  which  it  first  presents  itself; 
never  consider  it  in  all  its  different  views;  and,  in  short, 
never  think  it  through.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  that 
when  they  come  to  speak  upon  these  subjects,  before  peo- 
ple who  have  considered  them  with  attention,  they  only 
discover  their  own  ignorance  and  laziness,  and  lay  them- 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  91 

selves  open  to  answers  that  put  them  in  confusion.  Do 
not  then  be  discouraged  by  the  first  difficulties,  but  contra 
audentior  ito ;  and  resolve  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  all  those 
things  which  every  gentleman  ought  to  know  well.  Those 
arts  or  sciences  which  are  peculiar  to  certain  professions, 
need  not  be  deeply  known  by  those  who  are  not  intended 
for  those  professions.  As,  for  instance,  fortification  and 
navigation ;  of  both  which,  a  superficial  and  general  knowl- 
edge, such  as  the  common  course  of  conversation,  with  a 
very  little  inquiry  on  your  part,  will  give  you,  is  sufficient. 
Though,  by  the  way,  a  little  more  knowledge  of  fortifica- 
tion may  be  of  some  use  to  you;  as  the  events  of  war,  in 
sieges,  make  many  of  the  terms  of  that  science  occur  fre- 
quently in  common  conversation ;  and  one  would  be  sorry 
to  say,  like  the  Marquis  de  Mascarille  in  Moliere's  PrS- 
cieuses  Ridicules,  when  he  hears  of  une  demie  lune,  Ma 
foi!  c1  Stoit  bien  une  lune  toute  entiere.  But  those  things 
which  every  gentleman,  independently  of  profession,  should 
know,  he  ought  to  know  well,  and  dive  into  all  the  depth 
of  them.  Such  are  languages,  history,  and  geography 
ancient  and  modern,  philosophy,  rational  logic,  rhetoric; 
and,  for  you  particularly,  the  constitutions  and  the  civil 
and  military  state  of  every  country  in  Europe.  This,  I 
confess,  is  a  pretty  large  circle  of  knowledge,  attended  with 
some  difficulties,  and  requiring  some  trouble  ;  which,  how- 
ever, an  active  and  industrious  mind  will  overcome,  and 
be  amply  repaid.  The  trifling  and  frivolous  mind  is  al- 
ways busied,  but  to  little  purpose;  it  takes  little  objects  for 
great  ones,  and  throws  away  upon  trifles  that  time  and  atten- 
tion which  only  important  things  deserve.  Knick-knacks, 
butterflies,  shells,  insects,  etc.,  are  the  subjects  of  their  most 
serious  researches.  They  contemplate  the  dress,  not  the 
characters  of  the  company  they  keep.  They  attend  more  to 
the  decorations  of  a  play  than  the  sense  of  it ;  and  to  the 
ceremonies  of  a  court  more  than  to  its  politics.  Such  an 
employment  of  time  is  an  absolute  loss  of  it.  You  have  now, 
at  most,  three  years  to  employ  either  well  or  ill ;  for,  as  I 
have  often  told  you,  you  will  be  all  your  life  what  you 
shall  be  three  years  hence.  For  God's  sake  then  reflect. 
Will  you  throw  this  time  away  either  in  laziness,  or  in 
trifles?  Or  will  you  not  rather  employ  every  moment  of  it 


92  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

in  a  manner  that  must  so  soon  reward  you  with  so  much 
pleasure,  figure,  and  character?  I  cannot,  I  will  not  doubt 
of  your  choice.  Read  only  useful  books;  and  never  quit  a 
subject  till  you  are  thoroughly  master  of  it,  but  read  and 
inquire  on  till  then.  When  you  are  in  company,  bring  the 
conversation  to  some  useful  subject,  but  &  portee  of  that 
company.  Points  of  history,  matters  of  literature,  the  cus- 
toms of  particular  countries,  the  several  orders  of  knight- 
hood, as  Teutonic,  Maltese,  etc..  are  surely  better  subjects 
of  conversation,  than  the  weather,  dress,  or  fiddle-faddle 
stories,  that  carry  no  information  along  with  them.  The 
characters  of  kings  and  great  men  are  only  to  be  learned 
in  conversation ;  for  they  are  never  fairly  written  during 
their  lives.  This,  therefore,  is  an  entertaining  and  in- 
structive subject  of  conversation,  and  will  likewise  give 
you  an  opportunity  of  observing  how  very  differently 
characters  are  given,  from  the  different  passions  and  views 
of  those  who  give  them.  Never  be  ashamed  nor  afraid  of 
asking  questions:  for  if  they  lead  to  information,  and  if 
you  accompany  them  with  some  excuse,  you  will  never  be 
reckoned  an  impertinent  or  rude  questioner.  All  those 
things,  in  the  common  course  of  life,  depend  entirely  upon 
the  manner ;  and,  in  that  respect,  the  vulgar  saying  is  true, 
That  one  man  can  better  steal  a  horse,  than  another  look 
over  the  hedge.  There  are  few  things  that  may  not  be 
said,  in  some  manner  or  other ;  either  in  a  seeming  confi- 
dence, or  a  genteel  irony,  or  introduced  with  wit ;  and  one 
great  part  of  the  knowledge  of  the  world  consists  in  know- 
ing when  and  where  to  make  use  of  these  different  man- 
ners. The  graces  of  the  person,  the  countenance,  and  the 
way  of  speaking,  contribute  so  much  to  this,  that  I  am 
convinced,  the  very  same  thing,  said  by  a  genteel  person 
in  an  engaging  way,  and  GRACEFULLY  and  distinctly  spoken, 
would  please,  which  would  shock,  if  MUTTERED  out  by  an 
awkward  figure,  with  a  sullen,  serious  countenance.  The 
poets  always  represent  Venus  as  attended  by  the  three 
Graces,  to  intimate  that  even  beauty  will  not  do  without. 
I  think  they  should  have  given  Minerva  three  also;  for 
without  them,  I  am  sure  learning  is  very  unattractive. 
Invoke  them,  then,  DISTINCTLY,  to  accompany  all  your  words 
and  motions.  Adieu. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  93 

P.  S.  Since  I  wrote  what  goes  before,  I  have  received 
your  letter,  OF  NO  DATE,  with  the  inclosed  state  of  the 
Prussian  forces :  of  which,  I  hope,  you  have  kept  a  copy ; 
this  you  should  lay  in  a  portefeuille,  and  add  to  it  all  the 
military  establishments  that  you  can  get  of  other  states  and 
kingdoms :  the  Saxon  establishment  you  may,  doubtless, 
easily  find.  By  the  way,  do  not  forget  to  send  me  answers 
to  the  questions  which  I  sent  you  some  time  ago,  concern- 
ing both  the  civil  and  the  ecclesiastical  affairs  of  Saxony. 

Do  not  mistake  me,  and  think  I  only  mean  that  you 
should  speak  elegantly  with  regard  to  style,  and  the  purity 
of  language;  but  I  mean,  that  you  should  deliver  and  pro- 
nounce what  you  say  gracefully  and  distinctly ;  for  which 
purpose  I  will  have  you  frequently  read  very  loud,  to  Mr. 
Harte,  recite  parts  of  orations,  and  speak  passages  of  plays; 
for,  without  a  graceful  and  pleasing  enunciation,  all  your 
elegancy  of  style,  in  speaking,  is  not  worth  one  farthing. 

I  am  very  glad  that  Mr.  Lyttelton*  approves  of  my  new 
house,  and  particularly  of  my  CANONICAL!  pillars.  My  bust 
of  Cicero  is  a  very  fine  one,  and  well  preserved;  it  will 
have  the  best  place  in  my  library,  unless  at  your  return 
you  bring  me  over  as  good  a  modern  head  of  your  own, 
which  I  should  like  still  better.  I  can  tell  you,  that  I  shall 
examine  it  as  attentively  as  ever  antiquary  did  an  old  one. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte,  at  whose  recovery 
I  rejoice. 


LETTER     XLVI 

LONDON,  August  2,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  Duval  the    jeweler,  is  arrived,  and  was  with 
me  three  or  four  days  ago.     You  will  easily  imagine 
that    I    asked  him    a    few  questions    concerning   you ; 
and  I  will  give  you  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that,  upon 
the    whole,  I  was    very    well    pleased  with    the    account    he 
gave  me.     But,  though  he  seemed  to  be  much  in  your  inter- 
est,   yet    he    fairly   owned   to    me    that   your    utterance    was 

•Brother  to  the  late  Lord  Lyttelton. 

t James  Brydges,   duke   of   Chandos,    built  a   most   magnificent   and 
elegant  house  at  CANNONS,  about  eight  miles  from  London.     It  was 


94  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

rapid,  thick,  and  ungraceful.  I  can  add  nothing  to  what 
I  have  already  said  upon  this  subject;  but  I  can  and  do 
repeat  the  absolute  necessity  of  speaking  distinctly  and 
gracefully,  or  else  of  not  speaking  at  all,  and  having  recourse 
to  signs.  He  tells  me  that  you  are  pretty  fat  for  one  of 
your  age :  this  you  should  attend  to  in  a  proper  way ;  for 
if,  while  very  young,  you  should  grow  fat,  it  would  be 
troublesome,  unwholesome,  and  ungraceful;  you  should  there- 
fore, when  you  have  time,  take  very  strong  exercise,  and  in 
your  diet  avoid  fattening  things.  All  malt  liquors  fatten, 
or  at  least  bloat;  and  I  hope  you  do  not  deal  much  in  them. 
I  look  upon  wine  and  water  to  be,  in  every  respect,  much 
wholesomer. 

Duval  says  there  is  a  great  deal  of  very  good  company  at 
Madame  Valentin's  and  at  another  lady's,  I  think  one 
Madame  Ponce's,  at  Leipsig.  Do  you  ever  go  to  either  of 
those  houses,  at  leisure  times?  It  would  not,  in  my  mind, 
be  amiss  if  you  did,  and  would  give  you  a  habit  of  ATTEN- 
TIONS; they  are  a  tribute  which  all  women  expect,  and 
which  all  men,  who  would  be  well  received  by  them,  must 
pay.  And,  whatever  the  mind  may  be,  manners  at  least 
are  certainly  improved  by  the  company  of  women  of  fashion. 

I  have  formerly  told  you,  that  you  should  inform  yourself 
of  the  several  orders,  whether  military  or  religious,  of  the 
respective  countries  where  you  may  be.  The  Teutonic  Order 
is  the  great  Order  of  Germany,  of  which  I  send  you  inclosed 
a  short  account.  It  may  serve  to  suggest  questions  to  you 
for  more  particular  inquiries  as  to  the  present  state  of  it ; 
of  which  you  ought  to  be  minutely  informed.  The  knights, 
at  present,  make  vows,  of  which  they  observe  none,  except 
it  be  that  of  not  marrying;  and  their  only  object  now  is 
to  arrive,  by  seniority,  at  the  Commanderies  in  their  respect- 
ive provinces;  which  are,  many  of  them,  very  lucrative. 
The  Order  of  Malta  is,  by  a  very  few  years,  prior  to  the 
Teutonic,  and  owes  its  foundation  to  the  same  causes. 
These  knights  were  first  called  Knights  Hospitaliers  of  St. 
John  of  Jerusalem,  then  Knights  of  Rhodes;  and  in  the 

superbly  furnished  with  fine  pictures,  statues,  etc.,  which,  after  his 
death,  were  sold  by  auction.  Lord  Chesterfield  purchased  the  hall- 
pillars,  the  floor,  and  staircase  with  double  flights;  which  are  now  in 
Chesterfield  House,  London. 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  95 

year  1530,  Knights  of  Malta,  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  having 
granted  them  that  island,  upon  condition  of  their  defending 
his  island  of  Sicily  against  the  Turks,  which  they  effectually 
did.  L'Abb6  de  Vertot  has  written  the  history  of  Malta, 
but  it  is  the  least  valuable  of  all  his  works;  and  moreover, 
too  long  for  you  to  read.  But  there  is  a  short  history  of 
all  the  military  orders  whatsoever,  which  I  would  advise 
you  to  get,  as  there  is  also  of  all  the  religious  orders;  both 
which  are  worth  your  having  and  consulting,  whenever 
you  meet  with  any  of  them  in  your  way;  as  you  will  very 
frequently  in  Catholic  countries.  For  my  own  part,  I  find 
that  I  remember  things  much  better,  when  I  recur  to  my 
books  for  them,  upon  some  particular  occasion,  than  by 
reading  them  tout  de  suite.  As,  for  example,  if  I  were 
to  read  the  history  of  all  the  military  or  religious  orders, 
regularly  one  after  another,  the  latter  puts  the  former  out 
of  my  head;  but  when  I  read  the  history  of  any  one,  upon 
account  of  its  having  been  the  object  of  conversation  or 
dispute,  I  remember  it  much  better.  It  is  the  same  in 
geography,  where,  looking  for  any  particular  place  in  the 
map,  upon  some  particular  account,  fixes  it  in  one's  memory 
forever.  I  hope  you  have  worn  out  your  maps  by  frequent 
use  of  that  sort.  Adieu. 

A  SHORT  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  TEUTONIC  ORDER 

In  the  ages  of  ignorance,  which  is  always  the  mother  of 
superstition,  it  was  thought  not  only  just,  but  meritorious, 
to  propagate  religion  by  fire  and  sword,  and  to  take  away 
the  lives  and  properties  of  unbelievers.  This  enthusiasm 
produced  the  several  crusades,  in  the  nth,  i2th,  and  follow- 
ing centuries;  the  object  of  which  was,  to  recover  the  Holy 
Land  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Infidels,  who,  by  the  way, 
were  the  lawful  possessors.  Many  honest  enthusiasts  engaged 
in  those  crusades,  from  a  mistaken  principle  of  religion,  and 
from  the  pardons  granted  by  the  Popes  for  all  the  sins  of 
those  pious  adventurers;  but  many  more  knaves  adopted 
these  holy  wars,  in  hopes  of  conquest  and  plunder. 

After  Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  at  the  head  of  these  knaves 
and  fools,  had  taken  Jerusalem,  in  the  year  1099,  Christiana 
of  various  nations  remained  in  that  city ;  among  the  rest, 


96  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

one  good  honest  German,  that  took  particular  care  of  his 
countrymen  who  came  thither  in  pilgrimages.  He  built  a 
house  for  their  reception,  and  an  hospital  dedicated  to  the 
Virgin.  This  little  establishment  soon  became  a  great  one, 
by  the  enthusiasm  of  many  considerable  people  who  en- 
gaged in  it,  in  order  to  drive  the  Saracens  out  of  the  Holy 
Land.  This  society  then  began  to  take  its  first  form  ;  and 
its  members  were  called  Marian  Teutonic  Knights.  Marian, 
from  their  chapel  sacred  to  the  Virgin  Mary ;  Teutonic, 
from  the  German,  or  Teuton,  who  was  the  author  of  it, 
and  Knights  from  the  wars  which  they  were  to  carry  on 
against  the  Infidels. 

These  knights  behaved  themselves  so  bravely,  at  first, 
that  Duke  Frederick  of  Suabia,  who  was  general  of  the 
German  army  in  the  Holy  Land,  sent,  in  the  year  1191,  to 
the  Emperor  Henry  VI.  and  Pope  Celestine  III.  to  desire 
that  this  brave  and  charitable  fraternity  might  be  incor- 
porated into  a  regular  order  of  knighthood  ;  which  was  ac- 
cordingly done,  and  rules  and  a  particular  habit  were  given 
them.  Forty  knights,  all  of  noble  families,  were  at  first 
created  by  the  King  of  Jerusalem  and  other  princes  then 
in  the  army.  The  first  grand  master  of  this  order  was 
Henry  Wallpot,  of  a  noble  family  upon  the  Rhine.  This 
order  soon  began  to  operate  in  Europe ;  drove  all  the  Pa- 
gans out  of  Prussia,  and  took  possession  of  it.  Soon  after, 
they  got  Livonia  and  Courland,  and  invaded  even  Russia, 
where  they  introduced  the  Christian  religion.  In  1510, 
they  elected  Albert,  Marquis  of  Bradenburg,  for  their  grand 
master,  who,  turning  Protestant,  soon  afterward  took  Prussia 
from  the  order,  and  kept  it  for  himself,  with  the  consent 
of  Sigismund,  King  of  Poland,  of  whom  it  was  to  hold. 
He  then  quitted  his  grand  mastership  and  made  himself 
hereditary  Duke  of  that  country,  which  is  thence  called 
Ducal  Prussia.  This  order  now  consists  of  twelve  provinces, 
viz.,  Alsatia,  Austria,  Coblentz,  and  Etsch,  which  are  the 
four  under  the  Prussian  jurisdiction;  Franconia,  Hesse, 
Biessen,  Westphalia,  Lorraine,  Thuringia,  Saxony,  and 
Utrecht,  which  eight  are  of  the  German  jurisdiction.  The 
Dutch  now  possess  all  that  the  order  had  in  Utrecht.  Every- 
one of  the  provinces  have  their  particular  Commander les ; 
and  the  most  ancient  of  these  Commandeurs  is  called  the 


97 

Commandeur  Provincial.  These  twelve  Commandeurs  are 
all  subordinate  to  the  Grand  Master  of  Germany  as  their 
chief,  and  have  the  right  of  electing  the  grand  master. 
The  elector  of  Cologne  is  at  present  Grand  Mattre. 

This  order,  founded  by  mistaken  Christian  zeal,  upon 
the  anti-Christian  principles  of  violence  and  persecution, 
soon  grew  strong  by  the  weakness  and  ignorance  of  the 
time ;  acquired  unjustly  great  possessions,  of  which  they 
justly  lost  the  greatest  part  by  their  ambition  and  cruelty, 
which  made  them  feared  and  hated  by  all  their  neighbors. 

I  have  this  moment  received  your  letter  of  the  4th,  N.  S., 
and  have  only  time  to  tell  you  that  I  can  by  no  means 
agree  to  your  cutting  off  your  hair.  I  am  very  sure  that 
your  headaches  cannot  proceed  from  thence.  And  as  for  the 
pimples  upon  your  head,  they  are  only  owing  to  the  heat 
of  the  season,  and  consequently  will  not  last  long.  But 
your  own  hair  is,  at  your  age,  such  an  ornament,  and  a 
wig,  however  well  made,  such  a  disguise,  that  I  will  upon 
no  account  whatsoever  have  you  cut  off  your  hair.  Nature 
did  not  give  it  to  you  for  nothing,  still  less  to  cause  you 
the  headache.  Mr.  Eliot's  hair  grew  so  ill  and  bushy,  that 
he  was  in  the  right  to  cut  it  off.  But  you  have  not  the  same 
reason. 


LETTER    XLVII 

LONDON,  August  23,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  Your  friend,  Mr.  Eliot,  has   dined  with  me 
twice  since  I  returned  here,  and  I  can  say  with    truth 
that  while  I  had  the  seals,  I    never  examined  or  sifted 
a  state  prisoner  with  so  much  care  and  curiosity  as  I  did  him. 
Nay,  I  did  more ;  for,  contrary  to  the   laws  of  this  country, 
I  gave  him  in  some  manner,  the  QJJESTION  ordinary  and  ex- 
traordinary ;  and    I    have     infinite    pleasure    in    telling   you 
that  the  rack    which  I  put  him  to,  did  not  extort  from  him 
one  single  word  that  was  not  such  as  I  wished  to    hear  of 
you.     I  heartily  congratulate  you  upon  such  an  advantageous 
testimony,  from  so  creditable  a   witness.     Laudari  a  laudato 
7 


98  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

viro,  is  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  and  honors  a  rational 
being  can  have  ;  may  you  long  continue  to  deserve  it !  Your 
aversion  to  drinking  and  your  dislike  to  gaming,  which 
Mr.  Eliot  assures  me  are  both  very  strong,  give  me 
the  greatest  joy  imaginable,  for  your  sake  :  as  the  former 
would  ruin  both  your  constitution  and  understanding,  and 
the  latter  your  fortune  and  character.  Mr.  Harte  wrote 
me  word  some  time  ago,  and  Mr.  Eliot  confirms  it  now,  that 
you  employ  your  pin  money  in  a  very  different  manner  from 
that  in  which  pin  money  is  commonly  lavished :  not  in 
gew-gaws  and  baubles,  but  in  buying  good  and  useful  books. 
This  is  an  excellent  symptom,  and  gives  me  very  good  hopes. 
Go  on  thus,  my  dear  boy,  but  for  these  next  two  years,  and 
I  ask  no  more.  You  must  then  make  such  a  figure  and  such 
a  fortune  in  the  world  as  I  wish  you,  and  as  I  have  taken 
all  these  pains  to  enable  you  to  do.  After  that  time  I 
allow  you  to  be  as  idle  as  ever  you  please ;  because  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  not  then  please  to  be  so  at  all.  The  ignorant 
and  the  weak  are  only  idle ;  but  those  who  have  once  ac- 
quired a  good  stock  of  knowledge,  always  desire  to  increase 
it.  Knowledge  is  like  power  in  this  respect,  that  those 
who  have  the  most,  are  most  desirous  of  having  more.  It 
does  not  clog,  by  possession,  but  increases  desire ;  which 
is  the  case  of  very  few  pleasures. 

Upon  receiving  this  congratulatory  letter,  and  reading 
your  own  praises,  I  am  sure  that  it  must  naturally  occur  to 
you,  how  great  a  share  of  them  you  owe  to  Mr.  Harte's 
care  and  attention ;  and,  consequently,  that  your  regard  and 
affection  for  him  must  increase,  if  there  be  room  for  it, 
in  proportion  as  you  reap,  which  you  do  daily,  the  fruits 
of  his  labors. 

I  must  not,  however,  conceal  from  you  that  there  was 
one  article  in  which  your  own  witness,  Mr.  Eliot,  faltered ; 
for,  upon  my  questioning  him  home  as  to  your  manner  of 
speaking,  he  could  not  say  that  your  utterance  was  either 
distinct  or  graceful.  I  have  already  said  so  much  to  you 
upon  this  point  that  I  can  add  nothing.  I  will  therefore 
only  repeat  this  truth,  which  is,  that  if  you  will  not  speak 
distinctly  and  graceful,  nobody  will  desire  to  hear  you. 

I  am  glad  to  learn  that  Abb6  Mably's  Droit  Public  de 
F Europe  makes  a  part  of  your  evening  amusements.  It  is 


LETTERS   TO   HIS  SON  99 

a  very  useful  book,  and  gives  a  clear  deduction  of  the 
affairs  of  Europe,  from  the  treaty  of  Munster  to  this  time. 
Pray  read  it  with  attention,  and  with  the  proper  maps, 
always  recurring  to  them  for  the  several  countries  or 
towns  yielded,  taken,  or  restored.  Pere  Bougeant's  third 
volume  will  give  you  the  best  idea  of  the  treaty  of  Mun- 
ster, and  open  to  you  the  several  views  of  the  belligerent 
and  contracting  parties,  and  there  never  were  greater  than 
at  that  time.  The  House  of  Austria,  in  the  war  imme- 
diately preceding  that  treaty,  intended  to  make  itself  abso- 
lute in  the  empire,  and  to  overthrow  the  rights  of  the 
respective  states  of  it.  The  view  of  France  was  to  weaken 
and  dismember  the  House  of  Austria  to  such  a  degree,  as 
that  it  should  no  longer  be  a  counterbalance  to  that  of 
Bourbon.  Sweden  wanted  possessions  on  the  continent  of 
Germany,  not  only  to  supply  the  necessities  of  its  own 
poor  and  barren  country,  but  likewise  to  hold  the  balance 
in  the  empire  between  the  House  of  Austria  and  the 
States.  The  House  of  Brandenburg  wanted  to  aggrandize 
itself  by  pilfering  in  the  fire ;  changed  sides  occasionally, 
and  made  a  good  bargain  at  last ;  for  I  think  it  got,  at 
the  peace,  nine  or  ten  bishoprics  secularized.  So  that  we 
may  date,  from  the  treaty  of  Munster,  the  decline  of  the 
House  of  Austria,  the  great  power  of  the  House  of  Bour- 
bon, and  the  aggrandizement  of  that  of  Bradenburg:  which, 
I  am  much  mistaken,  if  it  stops  where  it  is  now. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Lord  Pulteney,  to  whom  I 
would  have  you  be  not  only  attentive,  but  useful,  by  set- 
ting him  (in  case  he  wants  it)  a  good  example  of  applica- 
tion and  temperance.  I  begin  to  believe  that,  as  I  shall 
be  proud  of  you,  others  will  be  proud  too  of  imitating  you. 
Those  expectations  of  mine  seem  now  so  well  grounded, 
that  my  disappointment,  and  consequently  my  anger,  will 
be  so  much  the  greater  if  they  fail ;  but  as  things  stand 
now,  I  am  most  affectionately  and  tenderly,  Yours. 


ioo  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER    XLVIII 

LONDON,  August  30,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:     Your  reflections  upon  the  conduct  of  France, 
from    the   treaty    of   Munster    to  this   time,    are    very 
just ;   and  I  am  very  glad  to  find,  by  them,  that  you 
not   only    read,  but    that    you  think    and   reflect    upon  what 
you    read.     Many  great    readers  load  their   memories,   with- 
out exercising   their  judgments;   and  make   lumber-rooms  of 
their    heads    instead    of   furnishing  them  usefully  ;  facts    are 
heaped    upon    facts    without  order   or  distinction,    and  may 
justly  be  said  to  compose  that 


-Rudis  indigestaque  moles 


Quern  dixere  chaos. 

Go  on,  then,  in  the  way  of  reading  that  you  are  in ;  take 
nothing  for  granted,  upon  the  bare  authority  of  the  author ; 
but  weigh  and  consider,  in  your  own  mind,  the  probability 
of  the  facts  and  the  justness  of  the  reflections.  Consult 
different  authors  upon  the  same  facts,  and  form  your  opin- 
ion upon  the  greater  or  lesser  degree  of  probability  arising 
from  the  whole,  which,  in  my  mind,  is  the  utmost  stretch 
of  historical  faith;  certainty  (I  fear)  not  being  to  be  found. 
When  a  historian  pretends  to  give  you  the  causes  and 
motives  of  events,  compare  those  causes  and  motives  with 
the  characters  and  interests  of  the  parties  concerned,  and 
judge  for  yourself  whether  they  correspond  or  not.  Con- 
sider whether  you  cannot  assign  others  more  probable;  and 
in  that  examination,  do  not  despise  some  very  mean  and 
trifling  causes  of  the  actions  of  great  men ;  for  so  various 
and  inconsistent  is  human  nature,  so  strong  and  changeable 
are  our  passions,  so  fluctuating  are  our  wills,  and  so  much 
are  our  minds  influenced  by  the  accidents  of  our  bodies 
that  every  man  is  more  the  man  of  the  day,  than  a  regu- 
lar consequential  character.  The  best  have  something  bad, 
and  something  little ;  the  worst  have  something  good,  and 
sometimes  something  great ;  for  I  do  not  believe  what  Vel- 
leius  Paterculus  (for  the  sake  of  saying  a  pretty  thing)  says 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  101 

of  Scipio,  Qui  nihil  non  laudandum  aut  fecit,  aut  dixit, 
aut  sensit.  As  for  the  reflections  of  historians,  with  which 
they  think  it  necessary  to  interlard  their  histories,  or  at 
least  to  conclude  their  chapters  (and  which,  in  the  French 
histories,  are  always  introduced  with  a  tant  il  esi  vrai, 
and  in  the  English,  so  TRUE  IT  is),  do  not  adopt  them 
implicitly  upon  the  credit  of  the  author,  but  analyze  them 
yourself,  and  judge  whether  they  are  true  or  not. 

But  to  return  to  the  politics  of  France,  from  which  I 
ha've  digressed.  You  have  certainly  made  one  further 
reflection,  of  an  advantage  which  France  has,  over  and 
above  its  abilities  in  the  cabinet  and  the  skill  of  its 
negotiators,  which  is  (if  I  may  use  the  expression )  its 
SOLKNESS,  continuity  of  riches  and  power  within  itself,  and 
the  nature  of  its  government.  Near  twenty  millions  of 
people,  and  the  ordinary  revenue  of  above  thirteen  millions 
sterling  a  year,  are  at  the  absolute  disposal  of  the  Crown. 
This  is  what  no  other  power  in  Europe  can  say  ;  so  that 
different  powers  must  now  unite  to  make  a  balance  against 
France  ;  which  union,  though  formed  upon  the  principle  of 
their  common  interest,  can  never  be  so  intimate  as  to  com- 
pose a  machine  so  compact  and  simple  as  that  of  one  great 
kingdom,  directed  by  one  will,  and  moved  by  one  interest. 
The  Allied  Powers  (as  we  have  constantly  seen)  have, 
besides  the  common  and  declared  object  of  their  alliance, 
some  separate  and  concealed  view  to  which  they  often 
sacrifice  the  general  one ;  which  makes  them,  either  directly 
or  indirectly,  pull  different  ways.  Thus,  the  design  upon 
Toulon  failed  in  the  year  1706,  only  from  the  secret  view 
of  the  House  of  Austria  upon  Naples:  which  made  the 
Court  of  Vienna,  notwithstanding  the  representations  of  the 
other  allies  to  the  contrary,  send  to  Naples  the  12,000  men 
that  would  have  done  the  business  at  Toulon.  In  this  last 
war  too,  the  same  causes  had  the  same  effects:  the  Queen 
of  Hungary  in  secret  thought  of  nothing  but  recovering  of 
Silesia,  and  what  she  had  lost  in  Italy  ;  and,  therefore, 
never  sent  half  that  quota  which  she  promised,  and  we 
paid  for,  into  Flanders ;  but  left  that  country  to  the  mari- 
time powers  to  defend  as  they  could.  The  King  of  Sar- 
dinia's real  object  was  Savona  and  all  the  Riviera  di 
Ponente ;  for  which  reason  he  concurred  so  lamely  in  the 


102  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

invasion  of  Provence,  where  the  Qjueen  of  Hungary,  like- 
wise, did  not  send  one-third  of  the  force  stipulated,  engrossed 
as  she  was  by  her  oblique  views  upon  the  plunder  of 
Genoa,  and  the  recovery  of  Naples.  Insomuch  that  the 
expedition  into  Provence,  which  would  have  distressed 
France  to  the  greatest  degree,  and  have  caused  a  great 
detachment  from  their  army  in  Flanders,  failed  shamefully, 
for  want  of  every  one  thing  necessary  for  its  success.  Sup- 
pose, therefore,  any  four  or  five  powers  who,  all  together, 
shall  be  equal,  or  even  a  little  superior,  in  riches  and  strength 
to  that  one  power  against  which  they  are  united  ;  the 
advantage  will  still  be  greatly  on  the  side  of  that  single 
power,  because  it  is  but  one.  The  power  and  riches  of 
Charles  V.  were,  in  themselves,  certainly  superior  to  those 
of  Frances  I.,  and  yet,  upon  the  whole,  he  was  not  an 
overmatch  for  him.  Charles  V.'s  dominions,  great  as  they 
were,  were  scattered  and  remote  from  each  other ;  their 
constitutions  different  ;  wherever  he  did  not  reside,  dis- 
turbances arose  ;  whereas  the  compactness  of  France  made 
up  the  difference  in  the  strength.  This  obvious  reflection 
convinced  me  of  the  absurdity  of  the  treaty  of  Hanover,  in 
1725,  between  France  and  England,  to  which  the  Dutch 
afterward  acceded  ;  for  it  was  made  upon  the  apprehensions, 
either  real  or  pretended,  that  the  marriage  of  Don  Carlos 
with  the  eldest  archduchess,  now  Queen  of  Hungary,  was 
settled  in  the  treaty  of  Vienna,  of  the  same  year,  between 
Spain  and  the  late  Emperor  Charles  VI.,  which  marriage, 
those  consummate  politicians  said  would  revive  in  Europe 
the  exorbitant  power  of  Charles  V.  I  am  sure,  I  heartily 
wish  it  had  ;  as,  in  that  case,  there  had  been,  what  there 
certainly  is  not  now, —  one  power  in  Europe  to  counter- 
balance that  of  France ;  and  then  the  maritime  powers 
would,  in  reality,  have  held  the  balance  of  Europe  in  their 
hands.  Even  supposing  that  the  Austrian  power  would 
then  have  been  an  overmatch  for  that  of  France  (which, 
by  the  way,  is  not  clear),  the  weight  of  the  maritime 
powers,  then  thrown  into  the  scale  of  France,  would 
infallibly  have  made  the  balance  at  least  even.  In  which 
case  too,  the  moderate  efforts  of  the  maritime  powers  on 
the  side  of  France  would  have  been  sufficient ;  whereas 
now,  they  are  obliged  to  exhaust  and  beggar  themselves; 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  103 

and  that  too  ineffectually,  in  hopes  to  support  the  shattered, 
beggared,  and  insufficient  House  of  Austria. 

This  has  been  a  long  political  dissertation ;  but  I  aai 
informed  that  political  subjects  are  your  favorite  ones; 
which  I  am  glad  of,  considering  your  destination.  You  do 
well  to  get  your  materials  all  ready,  before  you  begin  your 
work.  As  you  buy  and  (I  am  told)  read  books  of  this 
kind,  I  will  point  out  two  or  three  for  your  purchase  and 
perusal ;  I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  not  mentioned  them 
before,  but  that  is  no  matter,  if  you  have  not  got  them. 
Memoir es  pour  ser-vir  &  V  Histoire  du  ijtime  Sticle,  is  a 
most  useful  book  for  you  to  recur  to  for  all  the  facts  and 
chronology  of  that  country :  it  is  in  four  volumes  octavo, 
and  very  correct  and  exact.  If  I  do  not  mistake,  I  have 
formerly  recommended  to  you,  Les  Memoir  es  du  Cardinal 
de  Retz;  however,  if  you  have  not  yet  read  them,  pray  do, 
and  with  the  attention  which  they  deserve.  You  will  there 
find  the  best  account  of  a  very  interesting  period  of  the 
minority  of  Lewis  XIV.  The  characters  are  drawn  short, 
but  in  a  strong  and  masterly  manner ;  and  the  political 
reflections  are  the  only  just  and  practical  ones  that  I  ever 
saw  in  print :  they  are  well  worth  your  transcribing.  Le 
Commerce  des  Anciens,  par  Monsieur  Huet.  Eveque  d"  Av- 
ranche,  in  one  little  volume  octavo,  is  worth  your  perusal, 
as  commerce  is  a  very  considerable  part  of  political  knowl- 
edge. I  need  not,  I  am  sure,  suggest  to  you,  when  you 
read  the  course  of  commerce,  either  of  the  ancients  or  of 
the  moderns,  to  follow  it  upon  your  map;  for  there  is  no 
other  way  of  remembering  geography  correctly,  but  by 
looking  perpetually  in  the  map  for  the  places  one  reads  of, 
even  though  one  knows  before,  pretty  near,  where  they  are. 

Adieu !  As  all  the  accounts  which  I  receive  of  you  grow 
better  and  better,  so  I  grow  more  and  more  affectionately, 
Yours. 


104  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER   XLIX 

LONDON,  September  5,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  have  received  yours,  with  the  inclosed 
German  letter  to  Mr.  Gravenkop,  which  he  assures 
me  is  extremely  well  written,  considering  the  little 
time  that  you  have  applied  yourself  to  that  language.  As 
you  have  now  got  over  the  most  difficult  part,  pray  go  on  dili- 
gently, and  make  yourself  absolutely  master  of  the  rest. 
Whoever  does  not  entirely  possess  a  language,  will  never 
appear  to  advantage,  or  even  equal  to  himself,  either  in 
speaking  or  writing  it.  His  ideas  are  fettered,  and  seem 
imperfect  or  confused,  if  he  is  not  master  of  all  the  words 
and  phrases  necessary  to  express  them.  I  therefore  desire, 
that  you  will  not  fail  writing  a  German  letter  once  every 
fortnight  to  Mr.  Gravenkop  ;  which  will  make  the  writing 
of  that  language  familiar  to  you ;  and  moreover,  when  you 
shall  have  left  Germany  and  be  arrived  at  Turin,  I  shall 
require  you  to  write  even  to  me  in  German ;  that  you  may 
not  forget  with  ease  what  you  have  with  difficulty  learned. 
I  likewise  desire,  that  while  you  are  in  Germany,  you  will 
take  all  opportunities  of  conversing  in  German,  which  is 
the  only  way  of  knowing  that,  or  any  other  language, 
accurately.  You  will  also  desire  your  German  master  to 
teach  you  the  proper  titles  and  superscriptions  to  be  used  to 
people  of  all  ranks;  which  is  a  point  so  material,  in  Ger- 
many, that  I  have  known  many  a  letter  returned  unopened, 
because  one  title  in  twenty  has  been  omitted  in  the 
direction. 

St.  Thomas's  day  now  draws  near,  when  you  are  to  leave 
Saxony  and  go  to  Berlin ;  and  I  take  it  for  granted,  that 
if  anything  is  yet  wanting  to  complete  your  knowledge  of  the 
state  of  that  electorate,  you  will  not  fail  to  procure  it  be- 
fore you  go  away.  I  do  not  mean,  as  you  will  easily 
believe,  the  number  of  churches,  parishes,  or  towns;  but  I 
mean  the  constitution,  the  revenues,  the  troops,  and  the 
trade  of  that  electorate.  A  few  questions,  sensibly  asked,  of 
sensible  people,  will  produce  you  the  necessary  informa- 
tions ;  which  I  desire  you  will  enter  in  your  little  book. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  105 

Berlin  will  be  entirely  a  new  scene  to  you,  and  I  look 
upon  it,  in  a  manner,  as  your  first  step  into  the  great 
world ;  take  care  that  step  be  not  a  false  one,  and  that  you 
do  not  stumble  at  the  threshold.  You  will  there  be  in 
more  company  than  you  have  yet  been ;  manners  and  at- 
tentions will  therefore  be  more  necessary.  Pleasing  in  com- 
pany is  the  only  way  of  being  pleased  in  it  yourself. 
Sense  and  knowledge  are  the  first  and  necessary  founda- 
tions for  pleasing  in  company ;  but  they  will  by  no  means 
do  alone,  and  they  will  never  be  perfectly  welcome  if  they 
are  not  accompanied  with  manners  and  attentions.  You  will 
best  acquire  these  by  frequenting  the  companies  of  people 
of  fashion ;  but  then  you  must  resolve  to  acquire  them,  in 
those  companies,  by  proper  care  and  observation ;  for  I 
have  known  people,  who,  though  they  have  frequented 
good  company  all  their  lifetime,  have  done  it  in  so  inat- 
tentive and  unobserving  a  manner,  as  to  be  never  the  better 
for  it,  and  to  remain  as  disagreeable,  as  awkward,  and  as 
vulgar,  as  if  they  had  never  seen  any  person  of  fashion. 
When  you  go  into  good  company  (by  good  company  is 
meant  the  people  of  the  first  fashion  of  the  place)  observe 
carefully  their  turn,  their  manners,  their  address  ;  and  conform 
your  own  to  them.  But  this  is  not  all  neither ;  go  deeper 
still ;  observe  their  characters,  and  pry,  as  far  as  you  can, 
into  both  their  hearts  and  their  heads.  Seek  for  their  par- 
ticular merit,  their  predominant  passion,  or  their  prevailing 
weakness;  and  you  will  then  know  what  to  bait  your  hook 
with  to  catch  them.  Man  is  a  composition  of  so  many, 
and  such  various  ingredients,  that  it  requires  both  time  and 
care  to  analyze  him :  for  though  we  have  all  the  same  in- 
gredients in  our  general  composition,  as  reason,  will,  pas- 
sions, and  appetites;  yet  the  different  proportions  and 
combinations  of  them  in  each  individual,  produce  that  in- 
finite variety  of  characters,  which,  in  some  particular  or 
other,  distinguishes  every  individual  from  another.  Reason 
ought  to  direct  the  whole,  but  seldom  does.  And  he  who 
addresses  himself  singly  to  another  man's  reason,  without 
endeavoring  to  engage  his  heart  in  his  interest  also,  is  no 
more  likely  to  succeed,  than  a  man  who  should  apply  only 
to  a  king's  nominal  minister,  and  neglect  his  favorite.  I 
will  recommend  to  your  attentive  perusal,  now  that  you 


io6  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

are  going  into  the  world,  two  books,  which  will  let  you 
as  much  into  the  characters  of  men,  as  books  can  do.  I 
mean,  Les  Reflections  Morales  de  Monsieur  de  la  Roche- 
foucault,  and  Les  Caracftres  de  la  Bruybre:  but  remember, 
at  the  same  time,  that  I  only  recommend  them  to  you  as 
the  best  general  maps  to  assist  you  in  your  journey,  and 
not  as  marking  out  every  particular  turning  and  winding 
that  you  will  meet  with.  There  your  own  sagacity  and 
observation  must  come  to  their  aid.  La  Rochefoucault,  is,  I 
know,  blamed,  but  I  think  without  reason,  for  deriving  all 
our  actions  from  the  source  of  self-love.  For  my  own  part, 
I  see  a  great  deal  of  truth,  and  no  harm  at  all,  in  that 
opinion.  It  is  certain  that  we  seek  our  own  happiness  in 
everything  we  do;  and  it  is  as  certain,  that  we  can  only 
find  it  in  doing  well,  and  in  conforming  all  our  actions  to 
the  rule  of  right  reason,  which  is  the  great  law  of  nature. 
It  is  only  a  mistaken  self-love  that  is  a  blamable  motive, 
when  we  take  the  immediate  and  indiscriminate  gratification 
of  a  passion,  or  appetite,  for  real  happiness.  But  am  I  blam- 
able if  I  do  a  good  action,  upon  account  of  the  happiness 
which  that  honest  consciousness  will  give  me?  Surely  not. 
On  the  contrary,  that  pleasing  consciousness  is  a  proof  of 
my  virtue.  The  reflection  which  is  the  most  censured  in 
Monsieur  de  la  Roche foucault's  book  as  a  very  ill-natured 
one,  is  this,  On  trouve  dans  le  malheur  de  son  meilleur  ami, 
quelque  chose  qui  ne  dfylait  -pas.  And  why  not?  Why 
may  I  not  feel  a  very  tender  and  real  concern  for  the  mis- 
fortune of  my  friend,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  feel  a 
pleasing  consciousness  at  having  discharged  my  duty  to 
him,  by  comforting  and  assisting  him  to  the  utmost  of  my 
power  in  that  misfortune?  Give  me  but  virtuous  actions, 
and  I  will  not  quibble  and  chicane  about  the  motives. 
And  I  will  give  anybody  their  choice  of  these  two  truths, 
which  amount  to  the  same  thing:  He  who  loves  himself 
best  is  the  honestest  man ;  or,  The  honestest  man  loves  him- 
self best. 

The  characters  of  La  Bruyere  are  pictures  from  the  life ; 
most  of  them  finely  drawn,  and  highly  colored.  Furnish 
your  mind  with  them  first,  and  when  you  meet  with  their 
likeness,  as  you  will  every  day,  they  will  strike  you  the  more. 
You  will  compare  every  feature  with  the  original ;  and  both 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  107 

will  reciprocally  help  you   to  discover    the  beauties  and  the 
blemishes. 

As  women  are  a  considerable,  or  at  least  a  pretty  numer- 
ous part  of  company;  and  as  their  suffrages  go  a  great 
way  toward  establishing  a  man's  character  in  the  fashion- 
able part  of  the  world  (which  is  of  great  importance  to 
the  fortune  and  figure  he  proposes  to  make  in  it),  it  is 
necessary  to  please  them.  I  will  therefore,  upon  this  subject, 
let  you  into  certain  Arcana  that  will  be  very  useful  for 
you  to  know,  but  which  you  must,  with  the  utmost  care, 
conceal  and  never  seem  to  know.  Women,  then,  are  only 
children  of  a  larger  growth;  they  have  an  entertaining 
tattle,  and  sometimes  wit ;  but  for  solid  reasoning,  good 
sense,  I  never  knew  in  my  life  one  that  had  it,  or  who 
reasoned  or  acted  consequentially  for  four-and-twenty  hours 
together.  Some  little  passion  or  humor  always  breaks  upon 
their  best  resolutions.  Their  beauty  neglected  or  contro- 
verted, their  age  increased,  or  their  supposed  understandings 
depreciated,  instantly  kindles  their  little  passions,  and  over- 
turns any  system  of  consequential  conduct,  that  in  their 
most  reasonable  moments  they  might  have  been  capable  of 
forming.  A  man  of  sense  only  trifles  with  them,  plays 
with  them,  humors  and  flatters  them,  as  he  does  with  a 
sprightly  forward  child  ;  but  he  neither  consults  them  about, 
nor  trusts  them  with  serious  matters ;  though  he  often 
makes  them  believe  that  he  does  both;  which  is  the  thing 
in  the  world  that  they  are  proud  of ;  for  they  love  mightily 
to  be  dabbling  in  business  (which  by  the  way  they  always 
spoil)  ;  and  being  justly  distrustful  that  men  in  general  look 
upon  them  in  a  trifling  light,  they  almost  adore  that  man 
who  talks  more  seriously  to  them,  and  who  seems  to  consult 
and  trust  them;  I  say,  who  seems;  for  weak  men  really  do, 
but  wise  ones  only  seem  to  do  it.  No  flattery  is  either  too 
high  or  too  low  for  them.  They  will  greedily  swallow  the 
highest,  and  gratefully  accept  of  the  lowest;  and  you  may 
safely  flatter  any  woman  from  her  understanding  down  to 
the  exquisite  taste  of  her  fan.  Women  who  are  either  in- 
disputably beautiful,  or  indisputably  ugly,  are  best  flattered 
upon  the  score  of  their  understandings;  but  those  who  are 
in  a  state  of  mediocrity,  are  best  flattered  upon  their  beauty, 
or  at  least  their  graces ;  for  every  woman  who  is  not 


io8  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

absolutely  ugly  thinks  herself  handsome ;  but  not  hearing 
often  that  she  is  so,  is  the  more  grateful  and  the  more 
obliged  to  the  few  who  tell  her  so;  whereas  a  decided  and 
conscious  beauty  looks  upon  every  tribute  paid  to  her 
beauty  only  as  her  due ;  but  wants  to  shine,  and  to  be  con- 
sidered on  the  side  of  her  understanding ;  and  a  woman  who 
is  ugly  enough  to  know  that  she  is  so,  knows  that  she  has 
nothing  left  for  it  but  her  understanding,  which  is  consequently 
and  probably  (in  more  senses  than  one)  her  weak  side. 
But  these  are  secrets  which  you  must  keep  inviolably,  if 
you  would  not,  like  Orpheus,  be  torn  to  pieces  by  the  whole 
sex;  on  the  contrary,  a  man  ,who  thinks  of  living  in  the 
great  world,  must  be  gallant,  polite,  and  attentive  to  please 
the  women.  They  have,  from  the  weakness  of  men,  more 
or  less  influence  in  all  courts ;  they  absolutely  stamp  every 
man's  character  in  the  beau  monde,  and  make  it  either  cur- 
rent, or  cry  it  down,  and  stop  it  in  payments.  It  is,  there- 
fore, absolutely  necessary  to  manage,  please,  and  flatter  them  : 
and  never  to  discover  the  least  marks  of  contempt,  which 
is  what  they  never  forgive;  but  in  this  they  are  not  singu- 
lar, for  it  is  the  same  with  men ;  who  will  much  sooner 
forgive  an  injustice  than  an  insult.  Every  man  is  not 
ambitious,  or  courteous,  or  passionate;  but  every  man  has 
pride  enough  in  his  composition  to  feel  and  resent  the  least 
slight  and  contempt.  Remember,  therefore,  most  carefully 
to  conceal  your  contempt,  however  just,  wherever  you  would 
not  make  an  implacable  enemy.  Men  are  much  more  un- 
willing to  have  their  weaknesses  and  their  imperfections 
known  than  their  crimes;  and  if  you  hint  to  a  man  that 
you  think  him  silly,  ignorant,  or  even  ill-bred,  or  awkward, 
he  will  hate  you  more  and  longer,  than  if  you  tell  him 
plainly,  that  you  think  him  a  rogue.  Never  yield  to  that 
temptation,  which  to  most  young  men  is  very  strong,  of 
exposing  other  people's  weaknesses  and  infirmities,  for  the 
sake  either  of  diverting  the  company,  or  showing  your  own 
superiority.  You  may  get  the  laugh  on  your  side  by  it  for 
the  present;  but  you  will  make  enemies  by  it  forever;  and 
even  those  who  laugh  with  you  then,  will,  upon  reflection, 
fear,  and  consequently  hate  you;  besides  that  it  is  ill-natured, 
and  a  good  heart  desires  rather  to  conceal  than  expose 
other  people's  weaknesses  or  misfortunes.  If  you  have  wit, 


LETTERS  TO  HIS   SON  109 

use  it  to  please,  and  not  to  hurt :  you  may  shine,  like  the 
sun  in  the  temperate  zones,  without  scorching.  Here  it  is 
wished  for;  under  the  Line  it  is  dreaded. 

These  are  some  of  the  hints  which  my  long  experience 
in  the  great  world  enables  me  to  give  you  ;  and  which,  if 
you  attend  to  them,  may  prove  useful  to  you  in  your  journey 
through  it.  I  wish  it  may  be  a  prosperous  one;  at  least,  I 
am  sure  that  it  must  be  your  own  fault  if  it  is  not. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte,  who,  I  am  very 
sorry  to  hear,  is  not  well.  I  hope  by  this  time  he  is  recov- 
ered. Adieu! 


LETTER     L 

LONDON,  September  13,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  have  more  than  once  recommended  to  you 
the  (< Memoirs*  of  the  Cardinal  de  Retz,  and  to  attend 
particularly  to  the  political  reflections  interspersed  in 
that  excellent  work.  I  will  now  preach  a  little  upon  two 
or  three  of  those  texts. 

In  the  disturbances  at  Paris,  Monsieur  de  Beaufort,  who 
was  a  very  popular,  though  a  very  weak  man,  was  the 
Cardinal's  tool  with  the  populace. 

Proud  of  his  popularity,  he  was  always  for  assembling 
the  people  of  Paris  together,  thinking  that  he  made  a  great 
figure  at  the  head  of  them.  The  Cardinal,  who  was  factious 
enough,  was  wise  enough  at  the  same  time  to  avoid  gath- 
ering the  people  together,  except  when  there  was  occasion, 
and  when  he  had  something  particular  for  them  to  do. 
However,  he  could  not  always  check  Monsieur  de  Beaufort; 
who  having  assembled  them  once  very  unnecessarily,  and 
without  any  determined  object,  they  ran  riot,  would  not 
be  kept  within  bounds  by  their  leaders,  and  did  their  cause 
a  great  deal  of  harm:  upon  which  the  Cardinal  observes 
most  judiciously,  Que  Monsieur  de  Beaufort  ne  savoit  pas, 
gue  qui  assemble  le  peuple,  Femeut.  It  is  certain,  that  great 
numbers  of  people  met  together,  animate  each  other,  and 
will  do  something,  either  good  or  bad,  but  oftener  bad ; 
and  the  respective  individuals,  who  were  separately  very 
quiet,  when  met  together  in  numbers,  grow  tumultuous  as 


no  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

a  body,  and  ripe  for  any  mischief  that  may  be  pointed  out 
to  them  by  the  leaders ;  and,  if  their  leaders  have  no  busi- 
ness for  them,  they  will  find  some  for  themselves.  The 
demagogues,  or  leaders  of  popular  factions,  should  therefore 
be  very  careful  not  to  assemble  the  people  unnecessarily, 
and  without  a  settled  and  well-considered  object.  Besides 
that,  by  making  those  popular  assemblies  too  frequent,  they 
make  them  likewise  too  familiar,  and  consequently  less 
respected  by  their  enemies.  Observe  any  meetings  of  people, 
and  you  will  always  find  their  eagerness  and  impetuosity 
rise  or  fall  in  proportion  to  their  numbers:  when  the  num- 
bers are  very  great,  all  sense  and  reason  seem  to  subside, 
and  one  sudden  frenzy  to  seize  on  all,  even  the  coolest  of 
them. 

Another  very  just  observation  of  the  Cardinal's  is,  That 
the  things  which  happen  in  our  own  times,  and  which 
we  see  ourselves,  do  not  surprise  us  near  so  much  as  the 
things  which  we  read  of  in  times  past,  though  not  in  the 
least  more  extraordinary ;  and  adds,  that  he  is  persuaded 
that  when  Caligula  made  his  horse  a  Consul,  the  people  of 
Rome,  at  that  time,  were  not  greatly  surprised  at  it,  having 
necessarily  been  in  some  degree  prepared  for  it,  by  an 
insensible  gradation  of  extravagances  from  the  same  quarter. 
This  is  so  true  that  we  read  every  day,  with  astonishment, 
things  which  we  see  every  day  without  surprise.  We 
wonder  at  the  intrepidity  of  a  Leonidas,  a  Codrus,  and  a 
Curtius ;  and  are  not  the  least  surprised  to  hear  of  a  sea- 
captain,  who  has  blown  up  his  ship,  his  crew,  and  himself, 
that  they  might  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemies  of 
his  country.  I  cannot  help  reading  of  Porsenna  and  Reg- 
ulus,  with  surprise  and  reverence,  and  yet  I  remember  that 
I  saw,  without  either,  the  execution  of  Shepherd,*  a  boy 
of  eighteen  years  old,  who  intended  to  shoot  the  late  king, 
and  who  would  have  been  pardoned,  if  he  would  have 
expressed  the  least  sorrow  for  his  intended  crime ;  but,  on 
the  contrary,  he  declared  that  if  he  was  pardoned  he 
would  attempt  it  again;  that  he  thought  it  a  duty  which 
he  owed  to  his  country,  and  that  he  died  with  pleasure  for 
having  endeavored  to  perform  it.  Reason  equals  Shepherd 

*  James  Shepherd,  a  coach-painter's  apprentice,  was  executed  at 
Tyburn  for  high  treason,  March  17,  1718,  in  the  reign  of  George  I. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  in 

to  Regulus ;  but  prejudice,  and  the  recency  of  the  fact, 
make  Shepherd  a  common  malefactor  and  Regulus  a  hero. 

Examine  carefully,  and  reconsider  all  your  notions  of  things ; 
analyze  them,  and  discover  their  component  parts,  and  see 
if  habit  and  prejudice  are  not  the  principal  ones ;  weigh 
the  matter  upon  which  you  are  to  form  your  opinion,  in 
the  equal  and  impartial  scales  of  reason.  It  is  not  to  be 
conceived  how  many  people,  capable  of  reasoning,  if  they 
would,  live  and  die  in  a  thousand  errors,  from  laziness ; 
they  will  rather  adopt  the  prejudices  of  others,  than  give 
themselves  the  trouble  of  forming  opinions  of  their  own. 
They  say  things,  at  first,  because  other  people  have  said 
them,  and  then  they  persist  in  them,  because  they  have  said 
them  themselves. 

The  last  observation  that  I  shall  now  mention  of  the 
Cardinal's  is,  K  That  a  secret  is  more  easily  kept  by  a  good 
many  people,  than  one  commonly  imagines."  By  this  he 
means  a  secret  of  importance,  among  people  interested  in 
the  keeping  of  it.  And  it  is  certain  that  people  of  business 
know  the  importance  of  secrecy,  and  will  observe  it,  where 
they  are  concerned  in  the  event.  To  go  and  tell  any  friend, 
wife,  or  mistress,  any  secret  with  which  they  have  nothing 
to  do,  is  discovering  to  them  such  an  unretentive  weakness, 
as  must  convince  them  that  you  will  tell  it  to  twenty  others, 
and  consequently  that  they  may  reveal  it  without  the  risk 
of  being  discovered.  But  a  secret  properly  communicated 
only  to  those  who  are  to  be  concerned  in  the  thing  in 
question,  will  probably  be  kept  by  them  though  they  should 
be  a  good  many.  Little  secrets  are  commonly  told  again, 
but  great  ones  are  generally  kept.  Adieu ! 


LETTER    LI 

LONDON,  September  20,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I    wait    with    impatience    for    your    accurate 
history    of    the    Chevaliers    Porte  Ep£es,    which    you 
promised    me    in    your  last,   and   which  I  take    to  be 
the    forerunner  of   a    larger   work  that    you    intend  to  give 
the  public,   containing    a  general  account  of  all  the  religious 


ii2  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

and  military  orders  of  Europe.  Seriously,  you  will  do  well 
to  have  a  general  notion  of  all  those  orders,  ancient  and 
modern ;  both  as  they  are  frequently  the  subjects  of  conver- 
sation, and  as  they  are  more  or  less  interwoven  with  the 
histories  of  those  times.  Witness  the  Teutonic  Order,  which, 
as  soon  as  it  gained  strength,  began  its  unjust  depredations 
in  Germany,  and  acquired  such  considerable  possessions 
there ;  and  the  Order  of  Malta  also,  which  continues  to  this 
day  its  piracies  upon  the  Infidels.  Besides  one  can  go  into 
no  company  in  Germany,  without  running  against  Monsieur 
le  Chevalier,  or  Monsieur  le  Commandeur  de  /'  Ordre  Teu- 
tonique.  It  is  the  same  in  all  the  other  parts  of  Europe 
with  regard  to  the  Order  of  Malta,  where  you  never  go  into 
company  without  meeting  two  or  three  Chevaliers  or  Com- 
mandeurs,  who  talk  of  their  Preuves,  their  Langues,  their 
Caravanes,  etc.,  of  all  which  things  I  am  sure  you  would 
not  willingly  be  ignorant.  On  the  other  hand,  I  do  not- 
mean  that  you  should  have  a  profound  and  minute  knowl- 
edge of  these  matters,  which  are  of  a  nature  that  a  general 
knowledge  of  them  is  fully  sufficient.  I  would  not  recom- 
mend you  to  read  Abb6  Vertot's  (<  History  of  the  Order  of 
Malta, w  in  four  quarto  volumes;  that  would  be  employing  a 
great  deal  of  good  time  very  ill.  But  I  would  have  you 
know  the  foundations,  the  objects,  the  INSIGNIA,  and  the 
short  general  history  of  them  all. 

As  for  the  ancient  religious  military  orders,  which  were 
chiefly  founded  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  such  as 
Malta,  the  Teutonic,  the  Knights  Templars,  etc.,  the  injustice 
and  the  wickedness  of  those  establishments  cannot,  I  am 
sure,  have  escaped  your  observation.  Their  pious  object  was, 
to  take  away  by  force  other  people's  property,  and  to  mas- 
sacre the  proprietors  themselves  if  they  refused  to  give  up 
that  property,  and  adopt  the  opinions  of  these  invaders. 
What  right  or  pretense  had  these  confederated  Christians 
of  Europe  to  the  Holy  Land?  Let  them  produce  their 
grant  of  it  in  the  Bible.  Will  they  say,  that  the  Saracens 
had  possessed  themselves  of  it  by  force,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, they  had  the  same  right?  Is  it  lawful  then  to 
steal  goods  because  they  were  stolen  before  ?  Surely 
not.  The  truth  is,  that  the  wickedness  of  many,  and 
the  weakness  of  more,  in  those  ages  of  ignorance  and 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  113 

superstition,  concurred  to  form  those  flagitious  conspira- 
cies against  the  lives  and  properties  of  unoffending 
people.  The  Pope  sanctified  the  villany,  and  annexed  the 
pardon  of  sins  to  the  perpetration  of  it.  This  gave  rise 
to  the  Crusaders,  and  carried  such  swarms  of  people  from 
Europe  to  the  conquests  of  the  Holy  Land.  Peter  the 
Hermit,  an  active  and  ambitious  priest,  by  his  indefatigable 
pains,  was  the  immediate  author  of  the  first  crusade ;  kings, 
princes,  all  professions  and  characters  united,  from  different 
motives,  in  this  great  undertaking,  as  every  sentiment,  ex- 
cept true  religion  and  morality,  invited  to  it.  The  ambitious 
hoped  for  kingdoms ;  the  greedy  and  the  necessitous  for 
plunder ;  and  some  were  enthusiasts  enough  to  hope  for  sal- 
vation, by  the  destruction  of  a  considerable  number  of  their 
fellow  creatures,  who  had  done  them  no  injury.  I  cannot 
omit,  upon  this  occasion,  telling  you  that  the  Eastern  em- 
perors at  Constantinople  (who,  as  Christians,  were  obliged 
at  least  to  seem  to  favor  these  expeditions),  seeing  the 
immense  numbers  of  the  Croisez,  and  fearing  that  the  West- 
ern Empire  might  have  some  mind  to  the  Eastern  Empire 
too,  if  it  succeeded  against  the  Infidels,  as  Fapp&it  -vient 
en  mangeant;  these  Eastern  emperors,  very  honestly,  poisoned 
the  waters  where  the  Croisez  were  to  pass,  and  so  destroyed 
infinite  numbers  of  them. 

The  later  orders  of  knighthood,  such  as  the  Garter  in 
England ;  the  Elephant  in  Denmark ;  the  Golden  Fleece  in 
Burgundy;  the  St.  Esprit,  St.  Michel,  St.  Louis,  and  St. 
Lazare,  in  France,  etc.,  are  of  a  very  different  nature  and 
institution.  They  were  either  the  invitations  to,  or  the 
rewards  of,  brave  actions  in  fair  war;  and  are  now  rather 
the  decorations  of  the  favor  of  the  prince,  than  the  proofs 
of  the  merit  of  the  subject.  However,  they  are  worth 
your  inquiries  to  a  certain  degree,  and  conversation  will 
give  you  frequent  opportunities  for  them.  Wherever  you 
are,  I  would  advise  you  to  inquire  into  the  respective 
orders  of  that  country,  and  to  write  down  a  short  account 
of  them.  For  example,  while  you  are  in  Saxony,  get  an 
account  of  V Aigle  Blanc  and  of  what  other  orders  there 
may  be,  either  Polish  or  Saxon  ;  and,  when  you  shall  be 
at  Berlin,  inform  yourself  of  three  orders,  t  Aigle  Noir^  la 
G6n6rosit€  et  le  Vrai  Mtrite,  which  are  the  only  ones 
8 


ii4  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

that  I  know  of  there.  But  whenever  you  meet  with  strag- 
gling ribands  and  stars,  as  you  will  with  a  thousand  in 
Germany,  do  not  fail  to  inquire  what  they  are,  and  to 
take  a  minute  of  them  in  your  memorandum  book ;  for  it 
is  a  sort  of  knowledge  that  costs  little  to  acquire,  and  yet 
it  is  of  some  use.  Young  people  have  frequently  an  incuri- 
ousness  about  them,  arising  either  from  laziness,  or  a  con- 
tempt of  the  object,  which  deprives  them  of  several  such 
little  parts  of  knowledge,  that  they  afterward  wish  they 
had  acquired.  If  you  will  put  conversation  to  profit,  great 
knowledge  may  be  gained  by  it ;  and  is  it  not  better  (since 
it  is  full  as  easy)  to  turn  it  upon  useful  than  upon  useless 
subjects?  People  always  talk  best  upon  what  they  know 
most,  and  it  is  both  pleasing  them  and  improving  one's 
self,  to  put  them  upon  that  subject.  With  people  of  a 
particular  profession,  or  of  a  distinguished  eminency  in  any 
branch  of  learning,  one  is  not  at  a  loss;  but  with  those, 
whether  men  or  women,  who  properly  constitute  what  is 
called  the  beau  monde,  one  must  not  choose  deep  subjects, 
nor  hope  to  get  any  knowledge  above  that  of  orders,  ranks, 
families,  and  court  anecdotes ;  which  are  therefore  the  pro- 
per (and  not  altogether  useless)  subjects  of  that  kind  of 
conversation.  Women,  especially,  are  to  be  talked  to  as 
below  men  and  above  children.  If  you  talk  to  them  too 
deep,  you  only  confound  them,  and  lose  your  own  labor ; 
if  you  talk  to  them  too  frivolously,  they  perceive  and 
resent  the  contempt.  The  proper  tone  for  them  is,  what 
the  French  call  the  Entregent,  and  is,  in  truth,  the  polite 
jargon  of  good  company.  Thus,  if  you  are  a  good  chem- 
ist, you  may  extract  something  out  of  everything. 

A  propos  of  the  beau  monde,  I  must  again  and  again 
recommend  the  Graces  to  you.  There  is  no  doing  without 
them  in  that  world;  and,  to  make  a  good  figure  in  that 
world,  is  a  great  step  toward  making  one  in  the  world  of 
business,  particularly  that  part  of  it  for  which  you  are 
destined.  An  ungraceful  manner  of  speaking,  awkward 
motions,  and  a  disagreeable  address,  are  great  clogs  to  the 
ablest  man  of  business,  as  the  opposite  qualifications  are  of 
infinite  advantage  to  him.  I  am  told  there  is  a  very  good 
dancing-master  at  Leipsig.  I  would  have  you  dance  a  min- 
uet very  well,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the  minuet 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  115 

itself  (though  that,  if  danced  at  all,  ought  to  be  danced 
well),  as  that  it  will  give  you  a  habitual  genteel  carriage 
and  manner  of  presenting  yourself. 

Since  I  am  upon  little  things,  I  must  mention  another, 
which,  though  little  enough  in  itself,  yet  as  it  occurs  at 
least  once  in  every  day,  deserves  some  attention ;  I  mean 
Carving.  Do  you  use  yourself  to  carve  ADROITLY  and  gen- 
teelly, without  hacking  half  an  hour  across  a  bone  ;  with- 
out bespattering  the  company  with  the  sauce ;  and  without 
overturning  the  glasses  into  your  neighbor's  pockets?  These 
awkwardnesses  are  extremely  disagreeable ;  and,  if  often 
repeated,  bring  ridicule.  They  are  very  easily  avoided  by 
a  little  attention  and  use. 

How  trifling  soever  these  things  may  seem,  or  really  be 
in  themselves,  they  are  no  longer  so  when  above  half  the 
world  thinks  them  otherwise.  And,  as  I  would  have  you 
omnibus  ornatum — excellere  rebus,  I  think  nothing  above  or 
below  my  pointing  out  to  you,  or  your  excelling  in.  You 
have  the  means  of  doing  it,  and  time  before  you  to  make 
use  of  them.  Take  my  word  for  it,  I  ask  nothing  now 
but  what  you  will,  twenty  years  hence,  most  heartily  wish 
that  you  had  done.  Attention  to  all  these  things,  for  the 
next  two  or  three  years,  will  save  you  infinite  trouble  and 
endless  regrets  hereafter.  May  you,  in  the  whole  course  of 
your  life,  have  no  reason  for  any  one  just  regret!  Adieu. 

Your  Dresden  china  is  arrived,  and  I  have  sent  it  to 
your  Mamma. 


LETTER   LII 

LONDON,   September  27,  O.  S.   1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :     I  have   received  your  Latin  *  Lecture  upon 
War,*  which  though  it  is  not  exactly  the  same  Latin 
that  Caesar,  Cicero,  Horace,  Virgil,  and  Ovid  spoke, 
is,  however,  as    good  Latin    as  the   erudite   Germans  speak 
or  write.     I  have    always     observed  that    the    most    learned 
people,  that  is,  those  who  have  read  the  most  Latin,  write 
the  worst;  and  that  distinguishes  the  Latin  of  a  gentleman 
scholar  from  that  of  a  pedant.     A  gentleman  has,  probably, 


u6  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

read  no  other  Latin  than  that  of  the  Augustan  age  ;  and 
therefore  can  write  no  other,  whereas  the  pedant  has  read 
much  more  bad  Latin  than  good,  and  consequently  writes 
so  too.  He  looks  upon  the  best  classical  books,  as  books 
for  school-boys,  and  consequently  below  him ;  but  pores 
over  fragments  of  obscure  authors,  treasures  up  the  obsolete 
words  which  he  meets  with  there,  and  uses  them  upon  all 
occasions  to  show  his  reading  at  the  expense  of  his  judg- 
ment. Plautus  is  his  favorite  author,  not  for  the  sake  of 
the  wit  and  the  vis  comica  of  his  comedies,  but  upon 
account  of  the  many  obsolete  words,  and  the  cant  of  low 
characters,  which  are  to  be  met  with  nowhere  else.  He 
will  rather  use  olli  than  ////,  optumb  than  optimb,  and  any 
bad  word  rather  than  any  good  one,  provided  he  can  but 
prove,  that  strictly  speaking,  it  is  Latin  ;  that  is,  that  it 
was  written  by  a  Roman.  By  this  rule,  I  might  now  write 
to  you  in  the  language  of  Chaucer  or  Spenser,  and  assert 
that  I  wrote  English,  because  it  was  English  in  their  days ; 
but  I  should  be  a  most  affected  puppy  if  I  did  so,  and  you 
would  not  understand  three  words  of  my  letter.  All  these, 
and  such  like  affected  peculiarities,  are  the  characteristics 
of  learned  coxcombs  and  pedants,  and  are  carefully  avoided 
by  all  men  of  sense. 

I  dipped  accidentally,  the  other  day,  into  Pitiscus's  pref- 
ace to  his  <(  Lexicon,*  where  I  found  a  word  that  puzzled 
me,  and  which  I  did  not  remember  ever  to  have  met  with 
before.  It  is  the  adverb  prcefiscirib^  which  means,  IN  A 
GOOD  HOUR  ;  an  expression  which,  by  the  superstition  of 
it,  appears  to  be  low  and  vulgar.  I  looked  for  it :  and 
at  last  I  found  that  it  is  once  or  twice  made  use  of  in 
Plautus,  upon  the  strength  of  which  this  learned  pedant 
thrusts  it  into  his  preface.  Whenever  you  write  Latin, 
remember  that  every  word  or  phrase  which  you  make  use 
of,  but  cannot  find  in  Caesar,  Cicero,  Livy,  Horace,  Virgil, 
and  Ovid,  is  bad,  illiberal  Latin,  though  it  may  have  been 
written  by  a  Roman. 

I  must  now  say  something  as  to  the  matter  of  the  *  Lec- 
ture," in  which  I  confess  there  is  one  doctrine  laid  down 
that  surprises  me :  It  is  this,  Quum  vero  hostis  sit  lenta 
citave  morte  omnia  dira  nobis  minitans  quocunque  bellan- 
tibus  negotium  est,  parum  san&  interfuerit  quo  modo  cum 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  117 

obruere  et  inter ficere  satagamus,  si  ferociam  exuere  cuncte- 
tur.  Ergo  veneno  quoque  uti  fas  estt  etc. ,  whereas  I  cannot 
conceive  that  the  use  of  poison  can,  upon  any  account, 
come  within  the  lawful  means  of  self-defense.  Force  may, 
without  doubt,  be  justly  repelled  by  force,  but  not  by 
treachery  and  fraud;  for  I  do  not  call  the  stratagems  of 
war,  such  as  ambuscades,  masked  batteries,  false  attacks, 
etc.,  frauds  or  treachery:  They  are  mutually  to  be  expected 
and  guarded  against;  but  poisoned  arrows,  poisoned  waters, 
or  poison  administered  to  your  enemy  (which  can  only  be 
done  by  treachery),  I  have  always  heard,  read,  and  thought, 
to  be  unlawful  and  infamous  means  of  defense,  be  your 
danger  ever  so  great:  But  si  ferociam  exuere  cunctetur; 
must  I  rather  die  than  poison  this  enemy?  Yes,  certainly, 
much  rather  die  than  do  a  base  or  criminal  action ;  nor  can 
I  be  sure,  beforehand,  that  this  enemy  may  not,  in  the  last 
moment,  ferociam  exuere.  .But  the  public  lawyers,  now, 
seem  to  me  rather  to  warp  the  law,  in  order  to  authorize, 
than  to  check,  those  unlawful  proceedings  of  princes  and 
states ;  which,  by  being  become  common,  appear  less  crim- 
inal, though  custom  can  never  alter  the  nature  of  good 
and  ill. 

Pray  let  no  quibbles  of  lawyers,  no  refinements  of  casuists, 
break  into  the  plain  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  which 
every  man's  right  reason  and  plain  common  sense  suggest 
to  him.  To  do  as  you  would  be  done  by,  is  the  plain, 
sure,  and  undisputed  rule  of  morality  and  justice.  Stick  to 
that;  and  be  convinced  that  whatever  breaks  into  it,  in 
any  degree,  however  speciously  it  may  be  turned,  and 
however  puzzling  it  may  be  to  answer  it,  is,  notwithstand- 
ing, false  in  itself,  unjust,  and  criminal.  I  do  not  know  a 
crime  in  the  world,  which  is  not  by  the  casuists  among 
the  Jesuits  (especially  the  twenty-four  collected,  I  think, 
by  Escobar)  allowed,  in  some,  or  many  cases,  not  to  be 
criminal.  The  principles  first  laid  down  by  them  are  often 
specious,  the  reasonings  plausible,  but  the  conclusion  always 
a  lie:  for  it  is  contrary  to  that  evident  and  undeniable 
rule  of  justice  which  I  have  mentioned  above,  of  not  doing 
to  anyone  what  you  would  not  have  him  do  to  you.  But, 
however,  these  refined  pieces  of  casuistry  and  sophistry, 
being  very  convenient  and  welcome  to  people's  passions 


n8  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

and  appetites,  they  gladly  accept  the  indulgence,  without 
desiring  to  detect  the  fallacy  of  the  reasoning :  and  indeed 
many,  I  might  say  most  people,  are  not  able  to  do  it ; 
which  makes  the  publication  of  such  quibblings  and  refine- 
ments the  more  pernicious.  I  am  no  skillful  casuist  nor 
subtle  disputant;  and  yet  I  would  undertake  to  justify  and 
qualify  the  profession  of  a  highwayman,  step  by  step,  and 
so  plausibly,  as  to  make  many  ignorant  people  embrace  the 
profession,  as  an  innocent,  if  not  even  a  laudable  one ;  and 
to  puzzle  people  of  some  degree  of  knowledge,  to  answer 
me  point  by  point.  I  have  seen  a  book,  entitled  £>uidlibet 
ex  Quolibet,  or  the  art  of  making  anything  out  of  any- 
thing; which  is  not  so  difficult  as  it  would  seem,  if  once  one 
quits  certain  plain  truths,  obvious  in  gross  to  every  under- 
standing, in  order  to  run  after  the  ingenious  refinements  of 
warm  imaginations  and  speculative  reasonings.  Doctor  Berke- 
ley, Bishop  of  Cloyne,  a  very  worthy,  ingenious,  and  learned 
man,  has  written  a  book  to  prove  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  matter,  and  that  nothing  exists  but  in  idea:  that 
you  and  I  only  fancy  ourselves  eating,  drinking,  and  sleep- 
ing; you  at  Leipsig,  and  I  at  London:  that  we  think  we 
have  flesh  and  blood,  legs,  arms,  etc.,  but  that  we  are  only 
spirit.  His  arguments  are,  strictly  speaking,  unanswerable ; 
but  yet  I  am  so  far  from  being  convinced  by  them,  that 
I  am  determined  to  go  on  to  eat  and  drink,  and  walk 
and  ride,  in  order  to  keep  that  MATTER,  which  I  so  mis- 
takenly imagine  my  body  at  present  to  consist  of,  in  as 
good  plight  as  possible.  Common  sense  (which,  in  truth, 
is  very  uncommon)  is  the  best  sense  I  know  of:  abide  by 
it,  it  will  counsel  you  best.  Read  and  hear,  for  your  amuse- 
ment, ingenious  systems,  nice  questions  subtilly  agitated, 
with  all  the  refinements  that  warm  imaginations  suggest ; 
but  consider  them  only  as  exercitations  for  the  mind,  and 
return  always  to  settle  with  common  sense. 

I  stumbled,  the  other  day,  at  a  bookseller's,  upon  <(  Comte 
de  Gabalis,"  in  two  very  little  volumes,  which  I  had  formerly 
read.  I  read  it  over  again,  and  with  fresh  astonishment. 
Most  of  the  extravagances  are  taken  from  the  Jewish  Rab- 
bins, who  broached  those  wild  notions,  and  delivered  them 
in  the  unintelligible  jargon  which  the  Caballists  and  Rosi- 
crucians  deal  in  to  this  day.  Their  number  is,  I  believe. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  119 

much  lessened,  but  there  are  still  some;  and  I  myself  have 
known  two,  who  studied  and  firmly  believed  in  that  mys- 
tical nonsense.  What  extravagancy  is  not  man  capable  of 
entertaining,  when  once  his  shackled  reason  is  led  in  triumph 
by  fancy  and  prejudice!  The  ancient  alchemists  give  very 
much  into  this  stuff,  by  which  they  thought  they  should 
discover  the  philosopher's  stone;  and  some  of  the  most  cele- 
brated empirics  employed  it  in  the  pursuit  of  the  universal 
medicine.  Paracelsus,  a  bold  empiric  and  wild  Caballist, 
asserted  that  he  had  discovered  it,  and  called  it  his  Alka- 
hest. Why  or  wherefore,  God  knows;  only  that  those 
madmen  call  nothing  by  an  intelligible  name.  You  may 
easily  get  this  book  from  The  Hague:  read  it,  for  it  will 
both  divert  and  astonish  you,  and  at  the  same  time  teach 
you  nil  admirari;  a  very  necessary  lesson. 

Your  letters,  except  when  upon  a  given  subject,  are  exceed- 
ingly laconic,  and  neither  answer  my  desires  nor  the  purpose 
of  letters ;  which  should  be  familiar  conversations,  between 
absent  friends.  As  I  desire  to  live  with  you  upon  the 
footing  of  an  intimate  friend,  and  not  of  a  parent,  I  could 
wish  that  your  letters  gave  me  more  particular  accounts  of 
yourself,  and  of  your  lesser  transactions.  When  you  write 
to  me,  suppose  yourself  conversing  freely  with  me  by  the 
fireside.  In  that  case,  you  would  naturally  mention  the 
incidents  of  the  day ;  as  where  you  had  been,  who  you  had 
seen,  what  you  thought  of  them,  etc.  Do  this  in  your 
letters:  acquaint  me  sometimes  with  your  studies,  sometimes 
with  your  diversions ;  tell  me  of  any  new  persons  and  char- 
acters that  you  meet  with  in  company,  and  add  your  own 
observations  upon  them:  in  short,  let  me  see  more  of  you 
in  your  letters.  How  do  you  go  on  with  Lord  Pulteney, 
and  how  does  he  go  on  at  Leipsig?  Has  he  learning,  has 
he  parts,  has  he  application?  Is  he  good  or  ill-natured? 
In  short,  What  is  he?  at  least,  what  do  you  think  him? 
You  may  tell  me  without  reserve,  for  I  promise  you 
secrecy.  You  are  now  of  an  age  that  I  am  desirous  to 
begin  a  confidential  correspondence  with  you;  and  as  I 
shall,  on  my  part,  write  you  very  freely  my  opinion  upon 
men  and  things,  which  I  should  often  be  very  unwilling 
that  anybody  but  you  and  Mr.  Harte  should  see,  so,  on 
your  part,  if  you  write  me  without  reserve,  you  may 


rao  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

depend  upon  my  inviolable  secrecy.  If  you  have  ever  looked 
into  the  *  Letters  *  of  Madame  de  S£vign6  to  her  daughter, 
Madame  de  Grignan,  you  must  have  observed  the  ease,  free- 
dom, and  friendship  of  that  correspondence;  and  yet,  I  hope 
and  I  believe,  that  they  did  not  love  one  another  better  than 
we  do.  Tell  me  what  books  you  are  now  reading,  either 
by  way  of  study  or  amusement;  how  you  pass  your  even- 
ings when  at  home,  and  where  you  pass  them  when  abroad.  I 
know  that  you  go  sometimes  to  Madame  Valentin's  assembly; 
What  do  you  do  there?  Do  you  play,  or  sup,  or  is  it  only 
la  belle  conversation?  Do  you  mind  your  dancing  while 
your  dancing-master  is  with  you?  As  you  will  be  often 
under  the  necessity  of  dancing  a  minuet,  I  would  have  you 
dance  it  very  well.  Remember,  that  the  graceful  motion 
of  the  arms,  the  giving  your  hand,  and  the  putting  on  and 
pulling  off  your  hat  genteelly,  are  the  material  parts  of  a 
gentleman's  dancing.  But  the  greatest  advantage  of  dancing 
well  is,  that  it  necessarily  teaches  you  to  present  yourself, 
to  sit,  stand,  and  walk,  genteelly;  all  of  which  are  of  real 
importance  to  a  man  of  fashion. 

I  should  wish  that  you  were  polished  before  you  go  to 
Berlin  ;  where,  as  you  will  be  in  a  great  deal  of  good  com- 
pany, I  would  have  you  have  the  right  manners  for  it.  It 
is  a  very  considerable  article  to  have  le  ton  de  la  bonne 
compagnie,  in  your  destination  particularly.  The  principal 
business  of  a  foreign  minister  is,  to  get  into  the  secrets, 
and  to  know  all  les  allures  of  the  courts  at  which  he 
resides ;  this  he  can  never  bring  about  but  by  such  a  pleas- 
ing address,  such  engaging  manners,  and  such  an  insinuat- 
ing behavior,  as  may  make  him  sought  for,  and  in  some 
measure  domestic,  in  the  best  company  and  the  best  families 
of  the  place.  He  will  then,  indeed,  be  well  informed  of  all 
that  passes,  either  by  the  confidences  made  him,  or  by 
the  carelessness  of  people  in  his  company,  who  are  ac- 
customed to  look  upon  him  as  one  of  them,  and  conse- 
quently are  not  upon  their  guard  before  him.  For  a  minister 
who  only  goes  to  the  court  he  resides  at,  in  form,  to  ask  an 
audience  of  the  prince  or  the  minister  upon  his  last 
instructions,  puts  them  upon  their  guard,  and  will  never 
know  anything  more  than  what  they  have  a  mind  that  he 
should  know.  Here  women  may  be  put  to  some  use.  A 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  121 

king's  mistress,  or  a  minister's  wife  or  mistress,  may  give 
great  and  useful  informations ;  and  are  very  apt  to  do  it, 
being  proud  to  show  that  they  have  been  trusted.  But 
then,  in  this  case,  the  height  of  that  sort  of  address,  which 
strikes  women,  is  requisite ;  I  mean  that  easy  politeness, 
genteel  and  graceful  address,  and  that  exttrieur  brilliant 
which  they  cannot  withstand.  There  is  a  sort  of  men  so 
like  women,  that  they  are  to  be  taken  just  in  the  same 
way;  I  mean  those  who  are  commonly  called  FINE  MEN; 
who  swarm  at  all  courts ;  who  have  little  reflection,  and 
less  knowledge ;  but,  who  by  their  good  breeding,  and 
train-tran  of  the  world,  are  admitted  into  all  companies ; 
and,  by  the  imprudence  or  carelessness  of  their  superiors, 
pick  up  secrets  worth  knowing,  which  are  easily  got  out 
of  them  by  proper  address.  Adieu. 


LETTER   LIII 

r 

BATH,  October  12,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  came  here  three  days  ago  upon  account 
of  a  disorder  in  my  stomach,  which  affected  my  head 
and  gave  me  vertigo.  I  already  find  myself  some- 
thing better;  and  consequently  do  not  doubt  but  that  the 
course  of  these  waters  will  set  me  quite  right.  But 
however  and  wherever  I  am,  your  welfare,  your  character, 
your  knowledge,  and  your  morals,  employ  my  thoughts  more 
than  anything  that  can  happen  to  me,  or  that  I  can  fear 
or  hope  for  myself.  I  am  going  off  the  stage,  you  are  com- 
ing upon  it;  with  me  what  has  been,  has  been,  and  reflec- 
tion now  would  come  too  late ;  with  you  everything  is  to 
come,  even,  in  some  manner,  reflection  itself;  so  that  this  is 
the  very  time  when  my  reflections,  the  result  of  experience, 
may  be  of  use  to  you,  by  supplying  the  want  of  yours. 
As  soon  as  you  leave  Leipsig,  you  will  gradually  be  going 
into  the  great  world ;  where  the  first  impressions  that  you 
shall  give  of  yourself  will  be  of  great  importance  to  you ; 
but  those  which  you  shall  receive  will  be  decisive,  for  they 
always  stick.  To  keep  good  company,  especially  at  your 


122  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

first  setting  out,  is  the  way  to  receive  good  impressions. 
If  you  ask  me  what  I  mean  by  good  company,  I  will  con- 
fess to  you  that  it  is  pretty  difficult  to  define  ;  but  I  will 
endeavor  to  make  you  understand  it  as  well  as  I  can. 

Good  company  is  not  what  respective  sets  of  company 
are  pleased  either  to  call  or  think  themselves,  but  it  is  that 
company  which  all  the  people  of  the  place  call,  and 
acknowledge  to  be,  good  company,  notwithstanding  some 
objections  which  they  may  form  to  some  of  the  individuals 
who  compose  it.  It  consists  chiefly  (but  by  no  means 
without  exception)  of  people  of  considerable  birth,  rank, 
and  character ;  for  people  of  neither  birth  nor  rank  are  fre- 
quently, and  very  justly  admitted  into  it,  if  distinguished 
by  any  peculiar  merit,  or  eminency  in  any  liberal  art  or 
science.  Nay,  so  motly  a  thing  is  good  company,  that 
many  people,  without  birth,  rank,  or  merit,  intrude  into  it 
by  their  own  forwardness,  and  others  slide  into  it  by  the 
protection  of  some  considerable  person ;  and  some  even  of 
indifferent  characters  and  morals  make  part  of  it.  But  in 
the  main,  the  good  part  preponderates,  and  people  of 
infamous  and  blasted  characters  are  never  admitted.  In 
this  fashionable  good  company,  the  best  manners  and  the 
best  language  of  the  place  are  most  unquestionably  to  be 
learned ;  for  they  establish  and  give  the  tone  to  both,  which 
are  therefore  called  the  language  and  manners  of  good  com- 
pany :  there  being  no  legal  tribunal  to  ascertain  either. 

A  company,  consisting  wholly  of  people  of  the  first 
quality,  cannot,  for  that  reason,  be  called  good  company,  in 
the  common  acceptation  of  the  phrase,  unless  they  are,  into 
the  bargain,  the  fashionable  and  accredited  company  of  the 
place ;  for  people  of  the  very  first  quality  can  be  as  silly, 
as  ill-bred,  and  as  worthless,  as  people  of  the  meanest 
degree.  On  the  other  hand,  a  company  consisting  entirely 
of  people  of  very  low  condition,  whatever  their  merit  or 
parts  may  be,  can  never  be  called  good  company ;  and 
consequently  should  not  be  much  frequented,  though  by  no 
means  despised. 

A  company  wholly  composed  of  men  of  learning,  though 
greatly  to  be  valued  and  respected,  is  not  meant  by  the  words 
GOOD  COMPANY  ;  they  cannot  have  the  easy  manners  and 
tournure  of  the  world,  as  they  do  not  live  in  it.  If  you 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  123 

can  bear  your  part  well  in  such  a  company,  it  is  extremely 
right  to  be  in  it  sometimes,  and  you  will  be  but  more 
esteemed  in  other  companies,  for  having  a  place  in  that. 
But  then  do  not  let  it  engross  you ;  for  if  you  do,  you  will 
be  only  considered  as  one  of  the  literati  by  profession ;  which 
is  not  the  way  either  to  shine,  or  rise  in  the  world. 

The  company  of  professed  wits  and  poets  is  extremely 
inviting  to  most  young  men ;  who  if  they  have  wit  them- 
selves, are  pleased  with  it,  and  if  they  have  none,  are  sillily 
proud  of  being  one  of  it :  but  it  should  be  frequented  with 
moderation  and  judgment,  and  you  should  by  no  means  give 
yourself  up  to  it.  A  wit  is  a  very  unpopular  denomination, 
as  it  carries  terror  along  with  it ;  and  people  in  general 
are  as  much  afraid  of  a  live  wit,  in  company,  as  a  woman 
is  of  a  gun,  which  she  thinks  may  go  off  of  itself,  and  do 
her  a  mischief.  Their  acquaintance  is,  however,  worth  seek- 
ing, and  their  company  worth  frequenting;  but  not  ex- 
clusively of  others,  nor  to  such  a  degree  as  to  be  considered 
only  as  one  of  that  particular  set. 

But  the  company,  which  of  all  others  you  should 
most  carefully  avoid,  is  that  low  company,  which,  in  every 
sense  of  the  word,  is  low  indeed  ;  low  in  rank,  low  in 
parts,  low  in  manners,  and  low  in  merit.  You  will,  per- 
haps, be  surprised  that  I  should  think  it  necessary  to  warn 
you  against  such  company,  but  yet  I  do  not  think  it  wholly 
unnecessary,  from  the  many  instances  which  I  have  seen 
of  men  of  sense  and  rank,  discredited,  verified,  and  undone, 
by  keeping  such  company. 

Vanity,  that  source  of  many  of  our  follies,  and  of  some 
of  our  crimes,  has  sunk  many  a  man  into  company,  in  every 
light  infinitely  below  himself,  for  the  sake  of  being  the 
first  man  in  it.  There  he  dictates,  is  applauded,  admired; 
and,  for  the  sake  of  being  the  Coryphceus  of  that  wretched 
chorus,  disgraces  and  disqualifies  himself  soon  for  any  better 
company.  Depend  upon  it,  you  will  sink  or  rise  to  the 
level  of  the  company  which  you  commonly  keep :  people 
will  judge  of  you,  and  not  unreasonably,  by  that.  There  is 
good  sense  in  the  Spanish  saying,  <(  Tell  me  whom  you  live 
with,  and  I  will  tell  you  who  you  are."  Make  it  therefore 
your  business,  wherever  you  are,  to  get  into  that  company 
which  everybody  in  the  place  allows  to  be  the  best  com- 


124  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

pany  next  to  their  own ;  which  is  the  best  definition  that 
I  can  give  you  of  good  company.  But  here,  too,  one 
caution  is  very  necessary,  for  want  of  which  many  young 
men  have  been  ruined,  even  in  good  company. 

Good  company  (as  I  have  before  observed)  is  composed 
of  a  great  variety  of  fashionable  people,  whose  characters 
and  morals  are  very  different,  though  their  manners  are 
pretty  much  the  same.  When  a  young  man,  new  in  the 
world,  first  gets  into  that  company,  he  very  rightly  deter- 
mines to  conform  to,  and  imitate  it.  But  then  he  too  often, 
and  fatally,  mistakes  the  objects  of  his  imitation.  He  has 
often  heard  that  absurd  term  of  genteel  and  fashionable 
rices.  He  there  sees  some  people  who  shine,  and  who  in 
general  are  admired  and  esteemed ;  and  observes  that  these 
people  are  whoremasters,  drunkards,  or  gamesters,  upon 
which  he  adopts  their  vices,  mistaking  their  defects  for  their 
perfections,  and  thinking  that  they  owe  their  fashions  and 
their  luster  to  those  genteel  vices.  Whereas  it  is  exactly 
the  reverse ;  for  these  people  have  acquired  their  reputation 
by  their  parts,  their  learning,  their  good-breeding,  and  other 
real  accomplishments :  and  are  only  blemished  and  lowered, 
in  the  opinions  of  all  reasonable  people,  and  of  their  own, 
in  time,  by  these  genteel  and  fashionable  vices.  A  whore- 
master,  in  a  flux,  or  without  a  nose,  is  a  very  genteel  per- 
•on,  indeed,  and  well  worthy  of  imitation.  A  drunkard, 
Tomiting  up  at  night  the  wine  of  the  day,  and  stupe- 
fied by  the  headache  all  the  next,  is,  doubtless,  a  fine 
model  to  copy  from.  And  a  gamester,  tearing  his  hair,  and 
blaspheming,  for  having  lost  more  than  he  had  in  the  world, 
is  surely  a  most  amiable  character.  No;  these  are  alloys, 
and  great  ones  too,  which  can  never  adorn  any  character, 
but  will  always  debase  the  best.  To  prove  this,  suppose 
any  man,  without  parts  and  some  other  good  qualities,  to 
be  merely  a  whoremaster,  a  drunkard,  or  a  gamester  ;  how 
will  he  be  looked  upon  by  all  sorts  of  people  ?  Why,  as  a 
most  contemptible  and  vicious  animal.  Therefore  it  is 
plain,  that  in  these  mixed  characters,  the  good  part  only 
makes  people  forgive,  but  not  approve,  the  bad. 

I  will  hope  and  believe  that  you  will  have  no  vices  ;  but 
if,  unfortunately,  you  should  have  any,  at  least  I  beg  of  you 
to  be  content  with  your  own,  and  to  adopt  no  other  body's. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  125 

The  adoption  of  vice  has,  I  am  convinced,  ruined  ten  times 
more  young  men  than  natural  inclinations. 

As  I  make  no  difficulty  of  confessing  my  past  errors, 
where  I  think  the  confession  may  be  of  use  to  you,  I  will 
own  that  when  I  first  went  to  the  university,  I  drank  and 
smoked,  notwithstanding  the  aversion  I  had  to  wine  and 
tobacco,  only  because  I  thought  it  genteel,  and  that  it  made 
me  look  like  a  man.  When  I  went  abroad,  I  first  went  to 
The  Hague,  where  gaming  was  much  in  fashion,  and  where 
I  observed  that  many  people  of  shining  rank  and  character 
gamed  too.  I  was  then  young  enough,  and  silly  enough, 
to  believe  that  gaming  was  one  of  their  accomplishments; 
and,  as  I  aimed  at  perfection,  I  adopted  gaming  as  a  neces- 
sary step  to  it.  Thus  I  acquired  by  error  the  habit  of  a 
vice  which,  far  from  adorning  my  character,  has,  I  am 
conscious,  been  a  great  blemish  in  it. 

Imitate  then,  with  discernment  and  judgment,  the  real 
perfections  of  the  good  company  into  which  you  may  get ; 
copy  their  politeness,  their  carriage,  their  address,  and  the 
easy  and  well-bred  turn  of  their  conversation ;  but  remem- 
ber that,  let  them  shine  ever  so  bright,  their  vices,  if  they 
have  any,  are  so  many  spots  which  you  would  no  more 
imitate,  than  you  would  make  an  artificial  wart  upon  your 
face,  because  some  very  handsome  man  had  the  misfortune 
to  have  a  natural  one  upon  his :  but,  on  the  contrary, 
think  how  much  handsomer  he  would  have  been  without 
it. 

Having  thus  confessed  some  of  my  tgaremens,  I  will  now 
show  you  a  little  of  my  right  side.  I  always  endeavored 
to  get  into  the  best  company  wherever  I  was,  and  com- 
monly succeeded.  There  I  pleased  to  some  degree  by  show- 
ing a  desire  to  please.  I  took  care  never  to  be  absent  or 
distrait;  but  on  the  contrary,  attended  to  everything  that 
was  said,  done,  or  even  looked,  in  company  ;  I  never  failed 
in  the  minutest  attentions  and  was  never  journalier.  These 
things,  and  not  my  tgaremens,  made  me  fashionable.  Adieu! 
This  letter  is  full  long  enough. 


126  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER    LIV 

BATH,  October  19,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  Having  in  my  last  pointed  out  what  sort  of 
company  you  should  keep,  I  will  now  give  you  some 
rules  for  your  conduct  in  it ;  rules  which  my  own  ex- 
perience and  observation  enable  me  to  lay  down,  and  com- 
municate to  you,  with  some  degree  of  confidence.  I  have 
often  given  you  hints  of  this  kind  before,  but  then  it  has 
been  by  snatches ;  I  will  now  be  more  regular  and  method- 
ical. I  shall  say  nothing  with  regard  to  your  bodily 
carriage  and  address,  but  leave  them  to  the  care  of  your 
dancing-master,  and  to  your  own  attention  to  the  best 
models ;  remember,  however,  that  they  are  of  conse- 
quence. 

Talk  often,  but  never  long :  in  that  case,  if  you  do  not 
please,  at  least  you  are  sure  not  to  tire  your  hearers.  Pay 
your  own  reckoning,  but  do  not  treat  the  whole  company, 
this  being  one  of  the  very  few  cases  in  which  people  do 
not  care  to  be  treated,  everyone  being  fully  convinced  that 
he  has  wherewithal  to  pay. 

Tell  stories  very  seldom,  and  absolutely  never  but  where 
they  are  very  apt  and  very  short.  Omit  every  circumstance 
that  is  not  material,  and  beware  of  digressions.  To  have 
frequent  recourse  to  narrative  betrays  great  want  of  imag- 
ination. 

Never  hold  anybody  by  the  button  or  the  hand,  in  order 
to  be  heard  out ;  for,  if  people  are  not  willing  to  hear  you, 
you  had  much  better  hold  your  tongue  than  them. 

Most  long  talkers  single  out  some  one  unfortunate  man 
in  company  (commonly  him  whom  they  observe  to  be  the 
most  silent,  or  their  next  neighbor)  to  whisper,  or  at  least  in 
a  half  voice,  to  convey  a  continuity  of  words  to.  This  is 
excessively  ill-bred,  and  in  some  degree  a  fraud  ;  conversa- 
tion-stock being  a  joint  and  common  property.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  if  one  of  these  unmerciful  talkers  lays  hold  of  you, 
hear  him  with  patience  (and  at  least  seeming  attention) 
if  he  is  worth  obliging;  for  nothing  will  oblige  him  more 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  127 

than  a  patient  hearing,  as  nothing  would  hurt  him  more 
than  either  to  leave  him  in  the  midst  of  his  discourse,  or 
to  discover  your  impatience  under  your  affliction. 

Take,  rather  than  give,  the  tone  of  the  company  you  are 
in.  If  you  have  parts,  you  will  show  them,  more  or  less, 
upon  every  subject ;  and  if  you  have  not,  you  had  better 
talk  sillily  upon  a  subject  of  other  people's  than  of  your 
own  choosing. 

Avoid  as  much  as  you  can,  in  mixed  companies,  argu- 
mentative, polemical  conversations ;  which,  though  they 
should  not,  yet  certainly  do,  indispose  for  a  time  the  con- 
tending parties  toward  each  other;  and,  if  the  controversy 
grows  warm  and  noisy,  endeavor  to  put  an  end  to  it  by 
some  genteel  levity  or  joke.  I  quieted  such  a  conversation- 
hubbub  once,  by  representing  to  them  that  though  I  was 
persuaded  none  there  present  would  repeat,  out  of  company, 
what  passed  in  it,  yet  I  could  not  answer  for  the  discretion 
of  the  passengers  in  the  street,  who  must  necessarily  hear 
all  that  was  said. 

Above  all  things,  and  upon  all  occasions,  avoid  speaking 
of  yourself,  if  it  be  possible.  Such  is  the  natural  pride  and 
vanity  of  our  hearts,  that  it  perpetually  breaks  out,  even  in 
people  of  the  best  parts,  in  all  the  various  modes  and  figures 
of  the  egotism. 

Some,  abruptly,  speak  advantageously  of  themselves,  with- 
out either  pretense  or  provocation.  They  are  impudent. 
Others  proceed  more  artfully,  as  they  imagine ;  and  forge 
accusations  against  themselves,  complain  of  calumnies  which 
they  never  heard,  in  order  to  justify  themselves,  by  ex- 
hibiting a  catalogue  of  their  many  virtues.  They  ac- 
knowledge it  may,  indeed,  seem  odd  that  they  should  talk 
in  that  manner  of  themselves ;  it  is  what  they  do  not  like, 
and  what  they  never  would  have  done;  no;  no  tortures 
should  ever  have  forced  it  from  them,  if  they  had  not  been 
thus  unjustly  and  monstrously  accused.  But,  in  these  cases, 
justice  is  surely  due  to  one's  self,  as  well  as  to  others;  and 
when  our  character  is  attacked,  we  may  say  in  our  own 
justification,  what  otherwise  we  never  would  have  said. 
This  thin  veil  of  Modesty  drawn  before  Vanity,  is  much 
too  transparent  to  conceal  it,  even  from  very  moderate 
discernment. 


128  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Others  go  more  modestly  and  more  slyly  still  (as  they 
think)  to  work  ;  but  in  my  mind  still  more  ridiculously. 
They  confess  themselves  (not  without  some  degree  of  shame 
and  confusion)  into  all  the  Cardinal  Virtues,  by  first  degrad- 
ing them  into  weaknesses  and  then  owning  their  misfortune 
in  being  made  up  of  those  weaknesses.  They  cannot  see 
people  suffer  without  sympathizing  with,  and  endeavoring  to 
help  them.  They  cannot  see  people  want,  without  relieving 
them,  though  truly  their  own  circumstances  cannot  very 
well  afford  it.  They  cannot  help  speaking  truth,  though  they 
know  all  the  imprudence  of  it.  In  short,  they  know  that, 
with  all  these  weaknesses,  they  are  not  fit  to  live  in  the 
world,  much  less  to  thrive  in  it.  But  they  are  now  too  old 
to  change,  and  must  rub  on  as  well  as  they  can.  This 
sounds  too  ridiculous  and  outr6^  almost,  for  the  stage  ;  and 
yet,  take  my  word  for  it,  you  will  frequently  meet  with  it 
upon  the  common  stage  of  the  world.  And  here  I  will 
observe,  by  the  bye,  that  you  will  often  meet  with  charac- 
ters in  nature  so  extravagant,  that  a  discreet  dramatist 
would  not  venture  to  set  them  upon  the  stage  in  their  true 
and  high  coloring. 

This  principle  of  vanity  and  pride  is  so  strong  in  human 
nature  that  it  descends  even  to  the  lowest  objects;  and 
one  often  sees  peopie  angling  for  praise,  where,  admitting 
all  they  say  to  be  true  (which,  by  the  way,  it  seldom 
is),  no  just  praise  is  to  be  caught.  One  man  affirms  that 
he  has  rode  post  an  hundred  miles  in  six  hours ;  probably 
it  is  a  lie  :  but  supposing  it  to  be  true,  what  then  ?  Why 
he  is  a  very  good  post-boy,  that  is  all.  Another  asserts, 
and  probably  not  without  oaths,  that  he  has  drunk  six  or 
eight  bottles  of  wine  at  a  sitting ;  out  of  charity,  I  wilt  be- 
lieve him  a  liar ;  for,  if  I  do  not,  I  must  think  him  a  beast. 

Such,  and    a  thousand  more,  are   the  follies  and  extrava- 
gances, which  vanity  draws  people  into,  and  which  always 
defeat  their  own   purpose;  and    as    Waller   says,   upon    an 
other  subject, — 

*Make  the  wretch  the  most  despised, 
Where  most  he  wishes  to  be  prized.* 

The  only  sure  way  of  avoiding  these  evils,  is  never  to  speak 
of  yourself  at  all.  But  when,  historically,  you  are  obliged 
to  mention  yourself,  take  care  not  to  drop  one  single  word 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  129 

that  can  directly  or  indirectly  be  construed  as  fishing  for 
applause.  Be  your  character  what  it  will,  it  will  be  known ; 
and  nobody  will  take  it  upon  your  own  word.  Never 
imagine  that  anything  you  can  say  yourself  will  varnish 
your  defects,  or  add  lustre  to  your  perfections  !  but,  on  the 
contrary,  it  may,  and  nine  times  in  ten,  will,  make  the 
former  more  glaring  and  the  latter  obscure.  If  you  are 
silent  upon  your  own  subject,  neither  envy,  indignation, 
nor  ridicule,  will  obstruct  or  allay  the  applause  which  you 
may  really  deserve;  but  if  you  publish  your  own  panegyric 
upon  any  occasion,  or  in  any  shape  whatsoever,  and  how- 
ever artfully  dressed  or  disguised,  they  will  all  conspire 
against  you,  and  you  will  be  disappointed  of  the  very  end 
you  aim  at. 

Take  care  never  to  seem  dark  and  mysterious ;  which  is 
not  only  a  very  unamiable  character,  but  a  very  suspicious 
one  too ;  if  you  seem  mysterious  with  others,  they  will  be 
really  so  with  you,  and  you  will  know  nothing.  The 
height  of  abilities  is  to  have  volto  sciolto  and  fensieri  stretti; 
that  is,  a  frank,  open,  and  ingenuous  exterior,  with  a 
prudent  interior;  to  be  upon  your  own  guard,  and  yet,  by 
a  seeming  natural  openness,  to  put  people  off  theirs.  De- 
pend upon  it  nine  in  ten  of  every  company  you  are  in  will 
avail  themselves  of  every  indiscreet  and  unguarded  expres- 
sion of  yours,  if  they  can  turn  it  to  their  own  advantage. 
A  prudent  reserve  is  therefore  as  necessary  as  a  seeming 
openness  is  prudent.  Always  look  people  in  the  face  when 
you  speak  to  them:  the  not  doing  it  is  thought  to  imply 
conscious  guilt ;  besides  that  you  lose  the  advantage  of  ob- 
serving by  their  countenances  what  impression  your  discourse 
makes  upon  them.  In  order  to  know  people's  real  senti- 
ments, I  trust  much  more  to  my  eyes  than  to  my  ears:  for 
they  can  say  whatever  they  have  a  mind  I  should  hear; 
but  they  can  seldom  help  looking,  what  they  have  no  in- 
tention that  I  should  know. 

Neither  retail  nor  receive  scandal  willingly ;  defamation 
of  others  may  for  the  present  gratify  the  malignity  of  the 
pride  of  our  hearts;  cool  reflection  will  draw  very  disad- 
vantageous conclusions  from  such  a  disposition;  and  in  the 
case  of  scandal,  as  in  that  of  robbery,  the  receiver  is  always 
thought  as  bad  as  the  thief. 
9 


130  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

Mimicry,  which  18  the  common  and  favorite  amusement  of 
little  low  minds,  is  in  the  utmost  contempt  with  great  ones. 
It  is  the  lowest  and  most  illiberal  of  all  buffoonery.  Pray, 
neither  practice  it  yourself,  nor  applaud  it  in  others.  Besides 
that  the  person  mimicked  is  insulted;  and,  as  I  have  often 
observed  to  you  before,  an  insult  is  never  forgiven. 

I  need  not  (I  believe)  advise  you  to  adapt  your  conver- 
sation to  the  people  you  are  conversing  with:  for  I  suppose 
you  would  not,  without  this  caution,  have  talked  upon  the 
same  subject,  and  in  the  same  manner,  to  a  minister  of 
state,  a  bishop,  a  philosopher,  a  captain,  and  a  woman. 
A  man  of  the  world  must,  like  the  chameleon,  be  able  to 
take  every  different  hue ;  which  is  by  no  means  a  criminal 
or  abject,  but  a  necessary  complaisance ;  for  it  relates  only 
to  manners  and  not  to  morals. 

One  word  only  as  to  swearing,  and  that,  I  hope  and  be- 
lieve, is  more  than  is  necessary.  You  may  sometimes  hear 
some  people  in  good  company  interlard  their  discourse 
with  oaths,  by  way  of  embellishment,  as  they  think,  but 
you  must  observe,  too,  that  those  who  do  so  are  never 
those  who  contribute,  in  any  degree,  to  give  that  company 
the  denomination  of  good  company.  They  are  always  sub- 
alterns, or  people  of  low  education;  for  that  practice, 
besides  that  it  has  no  one  temptation  to  plead,  is  as  silly 
and  as  illiberal  as  it  is  wicked. 

Loud  laughter  is  the  mirth  of  the  mob,  who  are  only 
pleased  with  silly  things ;  for  true  wit  or  good  sense  never 
excited  a  laugh  since  the  creation  of  the  world.  A  man 
of  parts  and  fashion  is  therefore  only  seen  to  smile,  but 
never  heard  to  laugh. 

But  to  conclude  this  long  letter;  all  the  above-mentioned 
rules,  however  carefully  you  may  observe  them,  will  lose 
half  their  effect,  if  unaccompanied  by  the  Graces.  What- 
ever you  say,  if  you  say  it  with  a  supercilious,  cynical 
face,  or  an  embarrassed  countenance,  or  a  silly,  disconcerted 
grin,  will  be  ill  received.  If,  into  the  bargain,  YOU  MUT- 
TER IT,  OR  UTTER  IT  INDISTINCTLY  AND  UNGRACEFULLY, 

it  will  be  still  worse  received.  If  your  air  and  address  are 
vulgar,  awkward,  and  gauche,  you  may  be  esteemed  indeed, 
if  you  have  great  intrinsic  merit;  but  you  will  never  please; 
and  without  pleasing  you  will  rise  but  heavily.  Venus, 


LETTERS  TO  HIS   SON  131 

among  the  ancients,  was  synonymous  with  the  Graces,  who 
were  always  supposed  to  accompany  her;  and  Horace  tells 
us  that  even  Youth  and  Mercury,  the  god  of  Arts  and 
Eloquence,  would  not  do  without  her :  — 

Parum  comis  sine  te  Ju-ventas  Mercuriusque. 

They   are    not    inexorable    Ladies,    and    may    be    had    if 
properly  and  diligently  pursued.     Adieu. 


LETTER   LV 

BATH,   October  29,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  My  anxiety  for  your  success  increases  in 
proportion  as  the  time  approaches  of  your  taking 
your  part  upon  the  great  stage  of  the  world.  The 
audience  will  form  their  opinion  of  you  upon  your  first 
appearance  (making  the  proper  allowance  for  your  inex- 
perience), and  so  far  it  will  be  final,  that,  though  it  may 
vary  as  to  the  degrees,  it  will  never  totally  change.  This 
consideration  excites  that  restless  attention  with  which  I 
am  constantly  examining  how  I  can  best  contribute  to  the 
perfection  of  that  character,  in  which  the  least  spot  or 
blemish  would  give  me  more  real  concern,  than  I  am  now 
capable  of  feeling  upon  any  other  account  whatsoever. 

I  have  long  since  done  mentioning  your  great  religious 
and  moral  duties,  because  I  could  not  make  your  under- 
standing so  bad  a  compliment  as  to  suppose  that  you 
wanted,  or  could  receive,  any  new  instructions  upon  those 
two  important  points.  Mr.  Harte,  I  am  sure,  has  not 
neglected  them;  and,  besides,  they  are  so  obvious  to  com- 
mon sense  and  reason,  that  commentators  may  (as  they 
often  do)  perplex,  but  cannot  make  them  clearer.  My 
province,  therefore,  is  to  supply  by  my  experience  your 
hitherto  inevitable  inexperience  in  the  ways  of  the  world. 
People  at  your  age  are  in  a  state  of  natural  ebriety;  and 
want  rails,  and  gardefous,  wherever  they  go,  to  hinder 
them  from  breaking  their  necks.  This  drunkenness  of 
youth  is  not  only  tolerated,  but  even  pleases,  if  kept  within 
certain  bounds  of  discretion  and  decency.  These  bounds 


132  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

are  the  point  which  it  is  difficult  for  the  drunken  man 
himself  to  find  out ;  and  there  it  is  that  the  experience  of 
a  friendjnay  not  only  serve,  but  save  him. 

Carry  with  you,  and  welcome,  into  company  all  the 
gaiety  and  spirits,  but  as  little  of  the  giddiness,  of  youth 
as  you  can.  The  former  will  charm ;  but  the  latter  will 
often,  though  innocently,  implacably  offend.  Inform  your- 
self of  the  characters  and  situations  of  the  company,  before 
you  give  way  to  what  your  imagination  may  prompt  you 
to  say.  There  are,  in  all  companies,  more  wrong  heads 
than  right  ones,  and  many  more  who  deserve,  than  who 
like  censure.  Should  you  therefore  expatiate  in  the  praise 
of  some  virtue,  which  some  in  company  notoriously  want; 
or  declaim  against  any  vice,  which  others  are  notoriously 
infected  with,  your  reflections,  however  general  and  unap- 
plied, will,  by  being  applicable,  be  thought  personal  and 
leveled  at  those  people.  This  consideration  points  out  to 
you,  sufficiently,  not  to  be  suspicious  and  captious  yourself, 
nor  to  suppose  that  things,  because  they  may  be,  are  there- 
fore meant  at  you.  The  manners  of  well-bred  people  se- 
cure one  from  those  indirect  and  mean  attacks ;  but  if,  by 
chance,  a  flippant  woman  or  a  pert  coxcomb  lets  off  any- 
thing of  that  kind,  it  is  much  better  not  to  seem  to  under- 
stand, than  to  reply  to  it. 

Cautiously  avoid  talking  of  either  your  own  or  other 
people's  domestic  affairs.  Yours  are  nothing  to  them  but 
tedious;  theirs  are  nothing  to  you.  The  subject  is  a  tender 
one :  and  it  is  odds  but  that  you  touch  somebody  or 
other's  sore  place:  for,  in  this  case,  there  is  no  trusting  to 
specious  appearances ;  which  may  be,  and  often  are,  so  con- 
trary to  the  real  situations  of  things,  between  men  and 
their  wives,  parents  and  their  children,  seeming  friends, 
etc.,  that,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  one  often 
blunders  disagreeably. 

Remember  that  the  wit,  humor,  and  jokes,  of  most  mixed 
companies  are  local.  They  thrive  in  that  particular  soil, 
but  will  not  often  bear  transplanting.  Every  company  is  dif- 
ferently circumstanced,  has  its  particular  cant  and  jargon ; 
which  may  give  occasion  to  wit  and  mirth  within  that 
circle,  but  would  seem  flat  and  insipid  in  any  other,  and 
therefore  will  not  bear  repeating.  Nothing  makes  a  man 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  133 

look  sillier  than  a  pleasantry  not  relished  or  not  under- 
stood; and  if  he  meets  with  a  profound  silence  when  he 
expected  a  general  applause,  or,  what  is  worse,  if  he  is 
desired  to  explain  the  bon  mot,  his  awkward  and  embar- 
rassed situation  is  easier  imagined  than  described.  A  pro- 
0os  of  repeating;  take  great  care  never  to  repeat  (I  do  not 
mean  here  the  pleasantries)  in  one  company  what  you 
hear  in  another.  Things,  seemingly  indifferent,  may,  by 
circulation,  have  much  graver  consequences  than  you  would 
imagine.  Besides,  there  is  a  general  tacit  trust  in  conver- 
sation, by  which  a  man  is  obliged  not  to  report  anything 
out  of  it,  though  he  is  not  immediately  enjoined  to  secrecy. 
A  retailer  of  this  kind  is  sure  to  draw  himself  into  a 
thousand  scrapes  and  discussions,  and  to  be  shyly  and  un- 
comfortably received  wherever  he  goes. 

You  will  find,  in  most  good  company,  some  people  who 
only  keep  their  place  there  by  a  contemptible  title 
enough ;  these  are  what  we  call  VERY  GOOD-NATURED  FEL- 
LOWS, and  the  French,  bons  diables.  The  truth  is,  they 
are  people  without  any  parts  or  fancy,  and  who,  having- 
no  will  of  their  own,  readily  assent  to,  concur  in,  and  ap- 
plaud, whatever  is  said  or  done  in  the  company ;  and 
adopt,  with  the  same  alacrity,  the  most  virtuous  or  the 
most  criminal,  the  wisest  or  the  silliest  scheme,  that  hap- 
pens to  be  entertained  by  the  majority  of  the  company. 
This  foolish,  and  often  criminal  complaisance  flows  from  a 
foolish  cause, —  the  want  of  any  other  merit.  I  hope  that 
you  will  hold  your  place  in  company  by  a  nobler  tenure, 
and  that  you  will  hold  it  (you  can  bear  a  quibble,  I  be- 
lieve, yet)  in  capite.  Have  a  will  and  an  opinion  of  your 
own,  and  adhere  to  them  steadily ;  but  then  do  it  with 
good  humor,  good-breeding,  and  (if  you  have  it)  with 
urbanity;  for  you  have  not  yet  beard  enough  either  to 
preach  or  censure. 

All  other  kinds  of  complaisance  are  not  only  blameless, 
but  necessary  in  good  company.  Not  to  seem  to  perceive 
the  little  weaknesses,  and  the  idle  but  innocent  affectations 
of  the  company,  but  even  to  flatter  them,  in  a  certain 
manner,  is  not  only  very  allowable,  bat,  in  truth,  a  sort 
of  polite  duty.  They  will  be  pleased  with  you,  if  you  do; 
and  will  certainly  not  be  reformed  by  you  if  you  do  not. 


134  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

For  instance:  you  will  find,  in  every  groupe  of  company, 
two  principal  figures,  viz.,  the  fine  lady  and  the  fine  gen- 
tleman who  absolutely  give  the  law  of  wit,  language, 
fashion,  and  taste,  to  the  rest  of  that  society.  There  is 
always  a  strict,  and  often  for  the  time  being,  a  tender  al- 
liance between  these  two  figures.  The  lady  looks  upon 
her  empire  as  founded  upon  the  divine  right  of  beauty 
(and  full  as  good  a  divine  right  it  is  as  any  king,  em- 
peror, or  pope,  can  pretend  to)  ;  she  requires,  and  com- 
monly meets  with,  unlimited  passive  obedience.  And  why 
should  she  not  meet  with  it?  Her  demands  go  no  higher 
than  to  have  her  unquestioned  pre-eminence  in  beauty,  wit, 
and  fashion,  firmly  established.  Few  sovereigns  (by  the 
way)  are  so  reasonable.  The  fine  gentleman's  claims  of 
right  are,  mutatis  mutandis^  the  same;  and  though,  in- 
deed, he  is  not  always  a  wit  de  jure,  yet,  as  he  is  the  wit 
de  Jacto  of  that  company,  he  is  entitled  to  a  share  of  your 
allegiance,  and  everybody  expects  at  least  as  much  as  they 
are  entitled  to,  if  not  something  more.  Prudence  bids  you 
make  your  court  to  these  joint  sovereigns ;  and  no  duty, 
that  I  know  of,  forbids  it.  Rebellion  here  is  exceedingly 
dangerous,  and  inevitably  punished  by  banishment,  and 
immediate  forfeiture  of  all  your  wit,  manners,  taste/  and 
fashion ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  a  cheerful  submission,  not 
without  some  flattery,  is  sure  to  procure  you  a  strong 
recommendation  and  most  effectual  pass,  throughout  all 
their,  and  probably  the  neighboring,  dominions.  With  a 
moderate  share  of  sagacity,  you  will,  before  you  have  been 
half  an  hour  in  their  company,  easily  discover  those  two 
principal  figures:  both  by  the  deference  which  you  will  ob- 
serve the  whole  company  pay  them,  and  by  that  easy, 
careless,  and  serene  air,  which  their  consciousness  of  power 
gives  them.  As  in  this  case,  so  in  all  others,  aim  always 
at  the  highest;  get  always  into  the  highest  company,  and 
address  yourself  particularly  to  the  highest  in  it.  The 
search  after  the  unattainable  philosopher's  stone  has  occa- 
sioned a  thousand  useful  discoveries,  which  otherwise  would 
never  have  been  made. 

What  the  French  justly  call  les  manures  nobles  are  only 
to  be  acquired  in  the  very  best  companies.  They  are  the 
distinguishing  characteristics  of  men  of  fashion:  people  of 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  135 

low  education  never  wear  them  so  close,  but  that  some 
part  or  other  of  the  original  vulgarism  appears.  Les  man- 
ibres  nobles  equally  forbid  insolent  contempt,  or  low  envy 
and  jealousy.  Low  people,  in  good  circumstances,  fine 
clothes,  and  equipages,  will  insolently  show  contempt  for 
all  those  who  cannot  afford  as  fine  clothes,  as  good  an 
equipage,  and  who  have  not  (as  their  term  is)  as  much 
money  in  their  pockets :  on  the  other  hand,  they  are  gnawed 
with  envy,  and  cannot  help  discovering  it,  of  those  who 
surpass  them  in  any  of  these  articles  ;  which  are  far  from 
being  sure  criterions  of  merit.  They  are  likewise  jealous 
of  being  slighted;  and,  consequently,  suspicious  and  cap- 
tious ;  they  are  eager  and  hot  about  trifles  because  trifles 
were,  at  first,  their  affairs  of  consequence.  Les  manures 
nobles  imply  exactly  the  reverse  of  all  this.  Study  them 
early;  you  cannot  make  them  too  habitual  and  familiar  to 
you. 

Just  as  I  had  written  what  goes  before,  I  received  your 
letter  of  the  24th,  N.  S.,  but  I  have  not  received  that 
which  you  mention  for  Mr.  Harte.  Yours  is  of  the  kind 
that  I  desire;  for  I  want  to  see  your  private  picture,  drawn 
by  yourself,  at  different  sittings;  for  though,  as  it  is  drawn 
by  yourself,  I  presume  you  will  take  the  most  advantageous 
likeness,  yet  I  think  that  I  have  skill  enough  in  that  kind 
of  painting  to  discover  the  true  features,  though  ever  so 
artfully  colored,  or  thrown  irto  skillful  lights  and  shades. 

By  your  account  of  the  German  play,  which  I  do  not 
know  whether  I  should  call  tragedy  or  comedy,  the  only 
shining  part  of  it  (since  I  am  in  a  way  of  quibbling)  seems 
to  have  been  the  fox's  tail.  I  presume,  too,  that  the  play 
has  had  the  same  fate  with  the  squib,  and  has  gone  off  no 
more.  I  remember  a  squib  much  better  applied,  when  it 
was  made  the  device  of  the  colors  of  a  French  regiment  of 
grenadiers ;  it  was  represented  bursting,  with  this  motto 
under  it : — Perearn  dum  luceam. 

I  like  the  description  of  your  PIC-NIC  ;  where  I  take  it 
for  granted,  that  your  cards  are  only  to  break  the  formality 
of  a  circle,  and  your  SYMPOSION  intended  more  to  promote 
conversation  than  drinking.  Such  an  AMICABLE  COLLISION, 
as  Lord  Shaftesbury  very  prettily  calls  it,  rubs  off  and 
smooths  those  rough  corners  which  mere  nature  has  given 


136  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

to  the  smoothest  of  us.  I  hope  some  part,  at  least,  of  the 
conversation  is  in  German.  A  propos:  tell  me  do  you 
speak  that  language  correctly,  and  do  you  write  it  with 
ease?  I  have  no  doubt  of  your  mastering  the  other  modern 
languages,  which  are  much  easier,  and  occur  much  oftener; 
for  which  reason,  I  desire  that  you  will  apply  most  dili- 
gently to  German,  while  you  are  in  Germany,  that  you 
may  speak  and  write  that  language  most  correctly. 

I  expect  to  meet  Mr.  Eliot  in  London,  in  about  three 
weeks,  after  which  you  will  soon  see  him  at  Leipsig. 
Adieu. 


LETTER    LVI 

LONDON,  November  18,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  Whatever  I  see  or  whatever  I  hear,  my 
first  consideration  is,  whether  it  can  in  any  way  be 
useful  to  you.  As  a  proof  of  this,  I  went  acciden- 
tally the  other  day  into  a  print-shop,  where,  among  many 
others,  I  found  one  print  from  a  famous  design  of  Carlo 
Maratti,  who  died  about  thirty  years  ago,  and  was  the  last 
eminent  painter  in  Europe :  the  subject  is  il  Studio  del 
Di segno ;  or  (<  The  School  of  Drawing."  An  old  man,  sup- 
posed to  be  the  master,  points  to  his  scholars,  who  are 
variously  employed  in  perspective,  geometry,  and  the  observa- 
tion of  the  statues  of  antiquity.  With  regard  to  per- 
spective, of  which  there  are  some  little  specimens,  he  has 
wrote,  Tanto  che  basti,  that  is,  (<  As  much  as  is  sufficient*; 
with  regard  to  geometry,  Tanto  che  basti  again ;  with 
regard  to  the  contemplation  of  the  ancient  statues,  there 
is  written,  Non  mat  a  bastanza, —  "There  never  can  be 
enough.*  But  in  the  clouds,  at  the  top  of  the  piece,  are 
represented  the  three  Graces,  with  this  just  sentence  written 
over  them,  Senza  di  noi  ogni  fatica  "e  vana^  that  is, 
"Without  us,  all  labor  is  vain.*  This  everybody  allows 
to  be  true  in  painting;  but  all  people  do  not  seem  to  con- 
sider, as  I  hope  you  will,  that  this  truth  is  full  as  applic- 
able to  every  other  art  or  science ;  indeed  to  everything 
that  is  to  be  said  or  done.  I  will  send  you  the  print  itself 


LETTERS  TO  HIS   SON  137 

by  Mr.  Eliot,  when  he  returns ;  and  I  will  advise  you  to 
make  the  same  use  of  it  that  the  Roman  Catholics  say  they 
do  of  the  pictures  and  images  of  their  saints,  which  is, 
only  to  remind  them  of  those ;  for  the  adoration  they  dis- 
claim. Nay,  I  will  go  further,  as  the  transition  from 
Popery  to  Paganism  is  short  and  easy,  I  will  classically  and 
poetically  advise  you  to  invoke,  and  sacrifice  to  them  every 
day,  and  all  the  day.  It  must  be  owned,  that  the  Graces 
do  not  seem  to  be  natives  of  Great  Britain  ;  and,  I  doubt, 
the  best  of  us  here  have  more  of  rough  than  polished  dia- 
mond. Since  barbarism  drove  them  out  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  they  seem  to  have  taken  refuge  in  France,  where 
their  temples  are  numerous,  and  their  worship  the  estab- 
lished one.  Examine  yourself  seriously,  why  such  and  such 
people  please  and  engage  you,  more  than  such  and  such 
others,  of  equal  merit ;  and  you  will  always  find  that  it  is 
because  the  former  have  the  Graces  and  the  latter  not.  I 
have  known  many  a  woman  with  an  exact  shape,  and  a 
symmetrical  assemblage  of  beautiful  features,  please  nobody; 
while  others,  with  very  moderate  shapes  and  features,  have 
charmed  everybody.  Why?  because  Venus  will  not  charm 
so  much,  without  her  attendant  Graces,  as  they  will  with- 
out her.  Among  men,  how  often  have  I  seen  the  most 
solid  merit  and  knowledge  neglected,  unwelcome,  or  even 
rejected,  for  want  of  them !  While  flimsy  parts,  little 
knowledge,  and  less  merit,  introduced  by  the  Graces,  have 
been  received,  cherished,  and  admired.  Even  virtue,  which 
is  moral  beauty,  wants  some  of  its  charms  if  unaccom- 
panied by  them. 

If  you  ask  me  how  you  shall  acquire  what  neither  you 
nor  I  can  define  or  ascertain,  I  can  only  answer,  BY  OBSERVA- 
TION. Form  yourself,  with  regard  to  others,  upon  what 
you  feel  pleases  you  in  them.  I  can  tell  you  the  importance, 
the  advantage,  of  having  the  Graces ;  but  I  cannot  give 
them  you  :  I  heartily  wish  I  could,  and  I  certainly  would ; 
for  I  do  not  know  a  better  present  that  I  could  make  you. 
To  show  you  that  a  very  wise,  philosophical,  and  retired 
man  thinks  upon  that  subject  as  I  do,  who  have  always 
lived  in  the  world,  I  send  you,  by  Mr.  Eliot,  the  famous 
Mr.  Locke's  book  upon  education ;  in  which  you  will  find 
the  stress  that  he  lays  upon  the  Graces,  which  he  calls 


138  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

(and  very  truly)  good-breeding.  I  have  marked  all  the 
parts  of  that  book  that  are  worth  your  attention ;  for  as 
he  begins  with  the  child,  almost  from  its  birth,  the  parts 
relative  to  its  infancy  would  be  useless  to  you.  Germany 
is,  still  less  than  England,  the  seat  of  the  Graces ;  however, 
you  had  as  good  not  say  so  while  you  are  there.  But  the 
place  which  you  are  going  to,  in  a  great  degree,  is ;  for  I 
have  known  as  many  well-bred,  pretty  men  come  from 
Turin,  as  from  any  part  of  Europe.  The  late  King  Victor 
Amed6e  took  great  pains  to  form  such  of  his  subjects  as 
were  of  any  consideration,  both  to  business  and  manners ; 
the  present  king,  I  am  told,  follows  his  example :  this, 
however,  is  certain,  that  in  all  courts  and  congresses,  where 
there  are  various  foreign  ministers,  those  of  the  King  of 
Sardinia  are  generally  the  ablest,  the  politest,  and  les  plus 
delies.  You  will  therefore,  at  Turin,  have  very  good  models 
to  form  yourself  upon  :  and  remember,  that  with  regard  to 
the  best  models,  as  well  as  to  the  antique  Greek  statues  in 
the  print,  non  mat  a  bastanza.  Observe  every  word,  look, 
and  motion  of  those  who  are  allowed  to  be  the  most 
accomplished  persons  there.  Observe  their  natural  and 
careless,  but  genteel  air;  their  unembarrassed  good-breeding; 
their  unassuming,  but  yet  unprostituted  dignity.  Mind 
their  decent  mirth,  their  discreet  frankness,  and  that  entre- 
gent  which,  as  much  above  the  frivolous  as  below  the 
important  and  the  secret,  is  the  proper  medium  for  con- 
versation in  mixed  companies.  I  will  observe,  by  the  bye, 
that  the  talent  of  that  light  entregent  is  often  of  great  use 
to  a  foreign  minister ;  not  only  as  it  helps  him  to  domesti- 
cate himself  in  many  families,  but  also  as  it  enables  him  to 
put  by,  and  parry  some  subjects  of  conversation,  which 
might  possibly  lay  him  under  difllc.ult.ics  both  what  to  say 
and  how  to  look. 

Of  all  the  men  that  ever  I  knew  in  my  life  (and  I  knew 
him  extremely  well),  the  late  Duke  of  Marlborough  pos- 
sessed the  graces  in  the  highest  degree,  not  to  say  engrossed 
them;  and  indeed  he  got  the  most  by  them ;  for  I  will  venture 
(contrary  to  the  custom  of  profound  historians,  who  always 
assign  deep  causes  for  great  events),  to  ascribe  the  better 
half  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough's  greatness  and  riches  to 
those  graces.  He  was  eminently  illiterate ;  wrote  bad  Eng- 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  139 

lish  and  spelled  it  still  worse.  He  had  no  share  of  what  is 
commonly  called  PARTS  :  that  is,  he  had  no  brightness, 
nothing  shining  in  his  genius.  He  had,  most  undoubtedly, 
an  excellent  good  plain  understanding  with  sound  judg- 
ment. But  these  alone,  would  probably  have  raised  him 
but  something  higher  than  they  found  him  ;  which  was 
page  to  King  James  the  Second's  queen.  There  the  Graces 
protected  and  promoted  him  ;  for  while  he  was  an  ensign 
of  the  Guards,  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  then  favorite  mis- 
tress to  King  Charles  the  Second,  struck  by  those  very 
Graces,  gave  him  five  thousand  pounds,  with  which  he 
immediately  bought  an  annuity  for  his  life  of  five  hundred 
pounds  a-year,  of  my  grandfather  Halifax ;  which  was  the 
foundation  of  his  subsequent  fortune.  His  figure  was 
beautiful ;  but  his  manner  was  irresistible,  by  either  man  or 
woman.  It  was  by  this  engaging,  graceful  manner,  that  he 
was  enabled,  during  all  his  war,  to  connect  the  various  and 
jarring  powers  of  the  Grand  Alliance,  and  to  carry  them  on 
to  the  main  object  of  the  war,  notwithstanding  their  private 
and  separate  views,  jealousies,  and  wrongheadednesses.  What- 
ever court  he  went  to  (and  he  was  often  obliged  to  go 
himself  to  some  resty  and  refractory  ones),  he  as  constantly 
prevailed,  and  brought  them  into  his  measures.  The  Pen- 
sionary Heinsius,  a  venerable  old  minister,  grown  gray  in 
business,  and  who  had  governed  the  republic  of  the  United 
Provinces  for  more  than  forty  years,  was  absolutely  gov- 
erned by  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  as  that  republic  feels 
to  this  day.  He  was  always  cool;  and  nobody  ever  ob- 
served the  least  variation  in  his  countenance ;  he  could 
refuse  more  gracefully  than  other  people  could  grant;  and 
those  who  went  away  from  him  the  most  dissatisfied  as  to 
the  substance  of  their  business,  were  yet  personally  charmed 
with  him  and,  in  some  degree,  comforted  by  his  manner. 
With  all  his  gentleness  and  gracefulness,  no  man  living  was 
more  conscious  of  his  situation,  nor  maintained  his  dignity 
better. 

With  the  share  of  knowledge  which  you  have  already 
gotten,  and  with  the  much  greater  which  I  hope  you  will 
soon  acquire,  what  may  you  not  expect  to  arrive  at,  if  you 
join  all  these  graces  to  it?  In  your  destination  particularly, 
they  are  in  truth  half  your  business  :  for,  if  you  once  gain 


i4o  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

the  affections  as  well  as  the  esteem  of  the  prince  or  minister 
of  the  court  to  which  you  are  sent,  I  will  answer  for  it, 
that  will  effectually  do  the  business  of  the  court  that  sent 
you  ;  otherwise  it  is  up-hill  work.  Do  not  mistake,  and 
think  that  these  graces  which  I  so  often  and  so  earnestly  recom- 
mend to  you,  should  only  accompany  important  transactions, 
and  be  worn  only  les  jours  de  gala;  no,  they  should,  if 
possible,  accompany  every,  the  least  thing  you  do  or  say; 
for,  if  you  neglect  them  in  little  things,  they  will  leave  you 
in  great  ones.  I  should,  for  instance,  be  extremely  concerned 
to  see  you  even  drink  a  cup  of  coffee  ungracefully,  and  slop 
yourself  with  it,  by  your  awkward  manner  of  holding  it; 
nor  should  I  like  to  see  your  coat  buttoned,  or  your  shoes 
buckled  awry.  But  I  should  be  outrageous,  if  I  heard  you 
mutter  your  words  unintelligibly,  stammer  in  your  speech, 
or  hesitate,  misplace,  and  mistake  in  your  narrations ;  and  I 
should  run  away  from  you  with  greater  rapidity,  if  possible, 
than  I  should  now  run  to  embrace  you,  if  I  found  you 
destitute  of  all  those  graces  which  I  have  set  my  heart 
upon  their  making  you  one  day,  omnibus  ornatum  excellere 
rebus. 

This  subject  is  inexhaustible,  as  it  extends  to  everything 
that  is  to  be  said  or  done  :  but  I  will  leave  it  for  the 
present,  as  this  letter  is  already  pretty  long.  Such  is  my 
desire,  my  anxiety  for  your  perfection,  that  I  never  think  I 
have  said  enough,  though  you  may  possibly  think  that  I  have 
said  too  much ;  and  though,  in  truth,  if  your  own  good 
sense  is  not  sufficient  to  direct  you,  in  many  of  these  plain 
points,  all  that  I  or  anybody  else  can  say  will  be  insufficient. 
But  where  you  are  concerned,  I  am  the  insatiable  man  in 
Horace,  who  covets  still  a  little  corner  more  to  complete  the 
figure  of  his  field.  I  dread  every  little  corner  that  may 
deform  mine,  in  which  I  would  have  (if  possible)  no  one 
defect. 

I  this  moment  receive  yours  of  the  lyth,  N.  S.,  and  can- 
not condole  with  you  upon  the  secession  of  your  German 
Commensaux;  who  both  by  your  and  Mr.  Harte's  descrip- 
tion, seem  to  be  des  gens  d'une  amiable  absence;  and,  if 
you  can  replace  them  by  any  other  German  conversation, 
you  will  be  a  gainer  by  the  bargain.  I  cannot  conceive,  if 
you  understand  German  well  enough  to  read  any  German 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  141 

book,  how  the  writing  of  the  German  character  can  be  so 
difficult  and  tedious  to  you,  the  twenty-four  letters  being 
very  soon  learned ;  and  I  do  not  expect  that  you  should 
write  yet  with  the  utmost  purity  and  correctness,  as  to  the 
language  :  what  I  meant  by  your  writing  once  a  fortnight 
to  Grevenkop,  was  only  to  make  the  written  character  fa- 
miliar to  you.  However,  I  will  be  content  with  one  in 
three  weeks  or  so. 

I  believe  you  are  not  likely  to  see  Mr.  Eliot  again  soon, 
he  being  still  in  Cornwall  with  his  father;  who,  I  hear,  is 
not  likely  to  recover.  Adieu. 


LETTER    LVII 

LONDON,  November  29,  O.  S.  1748. 

DKAR  Bor:  I  delayed  writing  to  you  till  I  could  give 
you  some  account  of  the  motions  of  your  friend  Mr. 
Eliot;  for  whom  I  know  you  have,  and  very  justly, 
the  most  friendly  concern.  His  father  and  he  came  to  town 
together,  in  a  post-chaise  a  fortnight  ago,  the  rest  of  the 
family  remaining  in  Cornwall.  His  father,  with  difficulty, 
survived  the  journey,  and  died  last  Saturday  was  seven- 
night.  Both  concern  and  decency  confined  your  friend,  till 
two  days  ago,  when  I  saw  him ;  he  has  determined,  and  I 
think  very  prudently,  to  go  abroad  again ;  but  how  soon, 
it  is  yet  impossible  for  him  to  know,  as  he  must  neces- 
sarily put  his  own  private  affairs  in  some  order  first;  but  I 
conjecture  that  he  may  possibly  join  you  at  Turin;  sooner, 
to  be  sure,  not.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  likely  to  be 
so  long  without  the  company  and  the  example  of  so  val- 
uable a  friend;  and  therefore  I  hope  that  you  will  make  it 
up  to  yourself,  as  well  as  you  can  at  this  distance,  by 
remembering  and  following  his  example.  Imitate  that  ap- 
plication of  his,  which  has  made  him  know  all  thoroughly, 
and  to  the  bottom.  He  does  not  content  himself  with  the 
surface  of  knowledge;  but  works  in  the  mine  for  it,  know- 
ing that  it  lies  deep.  Pope  says,  very  truly,  in  his  <(  Essay 
on  Criticism  " :  — 


142  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing; 
Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring. 

I  shall  send  you  by  a  ship  that  goes  to  Hamburg  next 
week  (and  by  which  Hawkins  sends  Mr.  Harte  some  things 
that  he  wrote  for)  all  those  which  I  propose  sending  you 
by  Mr.  Eliot,  together  with  a  very  little  box  that  I  am 
desired  to  forward  to  Mr.  Harte.  There  will  be,  likewise, 
two  letters  of  recommendation  for  you  to  Monsieur  Andri6 
and  Comte  Algarotti,  at  Berlin,  which  you  will  take  care 
to  deliver  to  them,  as  soon  as  you  shall  be  rigged  and  fitted 
out  to  appear  there.  They  will  introduce  you  into  the  best 
company,  and  I  depend  upon  your  own  good  sense  for 
your  avoiding  of  bad.  If  you  fall  into  bad  and  low  com- 
pany there,  or  anywhere  else,  you  will  be  irrecoverably  lost; 
whereas,  if  you  keep  good  company,  and  company  above 
yourself,  your  character  and  your  fortune  will  be  immovably 
fixed. 

I  have  not  time  to-day,  upon  account  of  the  meeting  of 
the  parliament,  to  make  this  letter  of  the  usual  length ;  and 
indeed,  after  the  volumes  that  I  have  written  to  you,  all 
I  can  add  must  be  unnecessary.  However,  I  shall  prob- 
ably, ex  abundanti^  return  soon  to  my  former  prolixity; 
and  you  will  receive  more  and  more  last  words  from,  Yours. 


LETTER    LVIII 

LONDON,  December  6,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  am  at  present  under  very  great  concern 
for  the  loss  of  a  most  affectionate  brother,  with 
whom  I  had  always  lived  in  the  closest  friendship. 
My  brother  John  died  last  Friday  night,  of  a  fit  of  the 
gout,  which  he  had  had  for  about  a  month  in  his  hands 
and  feet,  and  which  fell  at  last  upon  his  stomach  and  head. 
As  he  grew,  toward  the  last,  lethargic,  his  end  was  not 
painful  to  himself.  At  the  distance  which  you  are  at  from 
hence,  you  need  not  go  into  mourning  upon  this  occasion, 
as  the  time  of  your  mourning  would  be  near  over,  before 
you  could  put  it  on. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  143 

By  a  ship  which  sails  this  week  for  Hamburg,  I  shall  send 
you  those  things  which  I  proposed  to  have  sent  you  by 
Mr.  Eliot,  viz.,  a  little  box  from  your  Mamma;  a  less  box 
for  Mr.  Harte;  Mr.  Locke's  book  upon  education;  the 
print  of  Carlo  Maratti,  which  I  mentioned  to  you  some 
time  ago;  and  two  letters  of  recommendation,  one  to 
Monsieur  Andri6  and  the  other  to  Comte  Algarotti,  at 
Berlin.  Both  those  gentlemen  will,  I  am  sure,  be  as  will- 
ing as  they  are  able  to  introduce  you  into  the  best  company ; 
and  I  hope  you  will  not  (as  many  of  your  countrymen  are 
apt  to  do)  decline  it.  It  is  in  the  best  companies  only, 
that  you  can  learn  the  best  manners  and  that  tournure, 
and  those  graces,  which  I  have  so  often  recommended  to 
you,  as  the  necessary  means  of  making  a  figure  in  the 
world. 

I  am  most  extremely  pleased  with  the  account  which  Mr. 
Harte  gives  me  of  your  progress  in  Greek,  and  of  your 
having  read  Hesiod  almost  critically.  Upon  this  subject  I 
suggest  but  one  thing  to  you,  of  many  that  I  might  sug- 
gest; which  is,  that  you  have  now  got  over  the  difficulties 
of  that  language,  and  therefore  it  would  be  unpardonable 
not  to  persevere  to  your  journey's  end,  now  that  all  the 
rest  of  your  way  is  down  hill. 

I  am  also  very  well  pleased  to  hear  that  you  have  such  a 
knowledge  of,  and  taste  for  curious  books  and  scarce  and 
valuable  tracts.  This  is  a  kind  of  knowledge  which  very 
well  becomes  a  man  of  sound  and  solid  learning,  but  which 
only  exposes  a  man  of  slight  and  superficial  reading ;  there- 
fore, pray  make  the  substance  and  matter  of  such  books 
your  first  object,  and  their  title-pages,  indexes,  letter,  and 
binding,  but  your  second.  It  is  the  characteristic  of  a  man 
of  parts  and  good  judgment  to  know,  and  give  that  de- 
gree of  attention  that  each  object  deserves.  Whereas  little 
minds  mistake  little  objects  for  great  ones,  and  lavish  away 
upon  the  former  that  time  and  attention  which  only  the 
latter  deserve.  To  such  mistakes  we  owe  the  numerous 
and  frivolous  tribes  of  insect-mongers,  shell-mongers,  and 
pursuers  and  driers  of  butterflies,  etc.  The  strong  mind 
distinguishes,  not  only  between  the  useful  and  the  use- 
less, but  likewise  between  the  useful  and  the  curious. 
He  applies  himself  intensely  to  the  former ;  he  only  amuses 


144  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

himself  with  the  latter.  Of  this  little  sort  of  knowledge, 
which  I  have  just  hinted  at,  you  will  find  at  least  as  much 
as  you  need  wish  to  know,  in  a  superficial  but  pretty 
French  book,  entitled,  Spectacle  de  la  Nature;  which 
will  amuse  you  while  you  read  it,  and  give  you  a  sufficient 
notion  of  the  various  parts  of  nature.  I  would  advise  you 
to  read  it,  at  leisure  hours.  But  that  part  of  nature,  which 
Mr.  Harte  tells  me  you  have  begun  to  study  with  the 
Rector  magnificus,  is  of  much  greater  importance,  and 
deserves  much  more  attention ;  I  mean  astronomy.  The 
vast  and  immense  planetary  system,  the  astonishing  order 
and  regularity  of  those  innumerable  worlds,  will  open  a 
scene  to  you,  which  not  only  deserves  your  attention  as  a 
matter  of  curiosity,  or  rather  astonishment ;  but  still  more, 
as  it  will  give  you  greater,  and  consequently  justcr,  ideas 
of  that  eternal  and  omnipotent  Being,  who  contrived,  made, 
and  still  preserves  that  universe,  than  all  the  contemplation 
of  this,  comparatively,  very  little  orb,  which  we  at  present 
inhabit,  could  possibly  give  you.  Upon  this  subject,  Mon- 
sieur Fontenelle's  Plurality  des  Mondes^  which  you  may 
read  in  two  hours'  time,  will  both  inform  and  please  you. 
God  bless  you !  Yours. 


LETTER    LIX 

LONDON,  December  13,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  The  last  four  posts  have  brought  me  no  let- 
ters, either  from  you  or  from  Mr.  Harte,  at  which 
I  am  uneasy  ;  not  as  a  mamma  would  be,  but  as  a 
father  should  be  :  for  I  do  not  want  your  letters  as  bills  of 
health;  you  are  young,  strong,  and  healthy,  and  I  am, 
consequently,  in  no  pain  about  that :  moreover,  were  either 
you  or  Mr.  Harte  ill,  the  other  would  doubtless  write 
me  word  of  it.  My  impatience  for  yours  or  Mr.  Harte's 
letters  arises  from  a  very  different  cause,  which  is  my  de- 
sire to  hear  frequently  of  the  state  and  progress  of  your  mind. 
You  are  now  at  that  critical  period  of  life  when  every  week 
ought  to  produce  fruit  or  flowers  answerable  to  your  cul- 
ture, which  I  am  sure  has  not  been  neglected ;  and  it  is  by 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  145 

your  letters,  and  Mr.  Harte's  accounts  of  you,  that,  at  this 
distance,  I  can  only  judge  at  your  gradations  to  maturity ; 
I  desire,  therefore,  that  one  of  you  two  will  not  fail  to 
write  to  me  once  a  week.  The  sameness  of  your  present 
way  of  life,  I  easily  conceive,  would  not  make  out  a  very 
interesting  letter  to  an  indifferent  bystander;  but  so  deeply 
concerned  as  I  am  in  the  game  you  are  playing,  even  the 
least  move  is  to  me  of  importance,  and  helps  me  to  judge 
of  the  final  event. 

As  you  will  be  leaving  Leipsig  pretty  soon  after  you 
shall  have  received  this  letter,  I  here  send  you  one  inclosed 
to  deliver  to  Mr.  Mascow.  It  is  to  thank  him  for  his  at- 
tention and  civility  to  you,  during  your  stay  with  him  :  and 
I  take  it  for  granted,  that  you  will  not  fail  making  him  the 
proper  compliments  at  parting;  for  the  good  name  that  we 
leave  behind  at  one  place  often  gets  before  us  to  another, 
and  is  of  great  use.  As  Mr.  Mascow  is  much  known  and 
esteemed  in  the  republic  of  letters,  I  think  it  would  be  of 
advantage  to  you,  if  you  got  letters  of  recommendation 
from  him  to  some  of  the  learned  men  at  Berlin.  Those 
testimonials  give  a  lustre,  which  is  not  to  be  despised;  for 
the  most  ignorant  are  forced  to  seem,  at  least,  to  pay  a  re- 
gard to  learning,  as  the  most  wicked  are  to  virtue.  Such 
is  their  intrinsic  worth. 

Your  friend  Duval  dined  with  me  the  other  day,  and 
complained  most  grievously  that  he  had  not  heard  from 
you  above  a  year ;  I  bid  him  abuse  you  for  it  himself ;  and 
advised  him  to  do  it  in  verse,  which,  if  he  was  really  angry, 
his  indignation  would  enable  him  to  do.  He  accordingly 
brought  me,  yesterday,  the  inclosed  reproaches  and  chal- 
lenge, which  he  desired  me  to  transmit  to  you.  As  this  is 
his  first  essay  in  English  poetry,  the  inaccuracies  in  the 
rhymes  and  the  numbers  are  very  excusable.  He  insists, 
as  you  will  find,  upon  being  answered  in  verse ;  which  I 
should  imagine  that  you  and  MR.  HARTK,  together,  could 
bring  about ;  as  the  late  Lady  Dorchester  used  to  say,  that  she 
and  Dr.  Radcliffe,  together,  could  cure  a  fever.  This  is 
however  sure,  that  it  now  rests  upon  you ;  and  no  man  can 
say  what  methods  Duval  may  take,  if  you  decline  his  chal- 
lenge. I  am  sensible  that  you  are  under  some  disadvan- 
tages in  this  proffered  combat.  Your  climate,  at  this  time 


146  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

of  the  year  especially,  delights  more  in  the  wood  fire,  than 
in  the  poetic  firej  and  I  conceive  the  Muses,  if  there  are 
any  at  Leipsig,  to  be  rather  shivering  than  singing;  nay, 
I  question  whether  Apollo  is  even  known  there  as  god  of 
Verse,  or  as  god  of  Light :  perhaps  a  little  as  god  of  Physic. 
These  will  be  fair  excuses,  if  your  performance  should  fall 
something  short ;  though  I  do  not  apprehend  that  it  will. 
While  you  have  been  at  Leipsig,  which  is  a  place  of  study 
more  than  of  pleasure  or  company,  you  have  had  all  oppor- 
tunities of  pursuing  your  studies  uninterruptedly ;  and  have 
had,  I  believe,  very  few  temptations  to  the  contrary.  But 
the  case  will  be  quite  different  at  Berlin,  where  the  splen- 
dor and  dissipation  of  a  court  and  the  beau  monde,  will 
present  themselves  to  you  in  gaudy  shapes,  attractive  enough 
to  all  young  people.  Do  not  think,  now,  that  like  an  old 
fellow,  I  am  going  to  advise  you  to  reject  them,  and  shut 
yourself  up  in  your  closet :  quite  the  contrary ;  I  advise  you 
to  take  your  share,  and  enter  into  them  with  spirit  and 
pleasure ;  but  then  I  advise  you,  too,  to  allot  your  time 
so  prudently,  as  that  learning  may  keep  pace  with  pleas- 
ures ;  there  is  full  time,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  for  both, 
if  you  do  but  manage  that  time  right  and  like  a  good 
economist.  The  whole  morning,  if  diligently  and  attentively 
devoted  to  solid  studies,  will  go  a  great  way  at  the  year's 
end ;  and  the  evenings  spent  in  the  pleasures  of  good  com- 
pany, will  go  as  far  in  teaching  you  a  knowledge,  not 
much  less  necessary  than  the  other,  I  mean  the  knowledge 
of  the  world.  Between  these  two  necessary  studies,  that  of 
books  in  the  morning,  and  that  of  the  world  in  the  even- 
ing, you  see  that  you  will  not  have  one  minute  to  squander 
or  slattern  away.  Nobody  ever  lent  themselves  more  than 
I  did,  when  I  was  young,  to  the  pleasures  and  dissipation 
of  good  company.  I  even  did  it  too  much.  But  then,  I 
can  assure  you,  that  I  always  found  time  for  serious  studies ; 
and,  when  I  could  find  it  no  other  way,  I  took  it  out  of 
my  sleep,  for  I  resolved  always  to  rise  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, however  late  I  went  to  bed  at  night ;  and  this  resolution 
I  have  kept  so  sacred,  that,  unless  when  I  have  been 
confined  to  my  bed  by  illness,  I  have  not,  for  more  than 
forty  years,  ever  been  in  bed  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning 
but  commonly  up  before  eight. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  147 

When  you  are  at  Berlin,  remember  to  speak  German  as 
often  as  you  can,  in  company ;  for  everybody  there  will 
speak  French  to  you,  unless  you  let  them  know  that  you 
can  speak  German,  which  then  they  will  choose  to  speak. 
Adieu. 


LETTER    LX 

LONDON,  December  20,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  received  last  Saturday  by  three  mails, 
which  came  in  at  once,  two  letters  from  Mr.  Harte, 
and  yours  of  the  8th,  N.  S. 

It  was  I  who  mistook  your  meaning,  with  regard  to  your 
German  letters,  and  not  you  who  expressed  it  ill.  I  thought 
it  was  the  writing  of  the  German  character  that  took  up 
so  much  of  your  time,  and  therefore  I  advised  you,  by  the 
frequent  writing  of  that  character,  to  make  it  easy  and 
familiar  to  you.  But,  since  it  is  only  the  propriety  and 
purity  of  the  German  language  which  make  your  writing 
it  so  tedious  and  laborious,  I  will  tell  you  I  shall  not  be 
nice  upon  that  article ;  and  did  not  expect  that  you  should 
yet  be  master  of  all  the  idioms,  delicacies,  and  peculiarities  of 
that  difficult  language.  That  can  only  come  by  use,  espe- 
cially frequent  speaking ;  therefore,  when  you  shall  be  at  Ber- 
lin, and  afterward  at  Turin,  where  you  will  meet  many 
Germans,  pray  take  all  opportunities  of  conversing  in  German, 
in  order  not  only  to  keep  what  you  have  got  of  that  lan- 
guage, but  likewise  to  improve  and  perfect  yourself  in  it. 
As  to  the  characters,  you  form  them  very  well,  and  as  you 
yourself  own,  better  than  your  English  ones;  but  then  let 
me  ask  you  this  question:  Why  do  you  not  form  your 
Roman  characters  better?  for  I  maintain,  that  it  is  in  every 
man's  power  to  write  what  hand  he  pleases ;  and,  con- 
sequently, that  he  ought  to  write  a  good  one.  You  form, 
particularly,  your  ee  and  your  //  in  zigzag,  instead  of  mak- 
ing them  straight,  as  thus,  ee,  II;  a  fault  very  easily  mended. 
You  will  not,  I  believe,  be  angry  with  this  little  criticism, 
when  I  tell  you,  that  by  all  the  accounts  I  have  had  of 
late  from  Mr.  Harte  and  others,  this  is  the  only  criticism 


148  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

that  you  give  me  occasion  to  make.  Mr.  Harte's  last  let- 
ter, of  the  I4th,  N.  S.,  particularly,  makes  me  extremely 
happy,  by  assuring  me  that,  in  every  respect,  you  do  ex- 
ceedingly well.  I  am  not  afraid,  by  what  I  now  say,  of 
making  you  too  vain  ;  because  I  do  not  think  that  a  just 
consciousness  and  an  honest  pride  of  doing  well,  can  be 
called  vanity;  for  vanity  is  either  the  silly  affectation  of 
good  qualities  which  one  has  not,  or  the  sillier  pride  of 
what  does  not  deserve  commendation  in  itself.  By  Mr. 
Harte's  account,  you  are  got  very  near  the  goal  of  Greek 
and  Latin  ;  and  therefore  I  cannot  suppose  that,  as  your 
sense  increases,  your  endeavors  and  your  speed  will  slacken 
in  finishing  the  small  remains  of  your  course.  Consider 
what  lustre  and  tclat  it  will  give  you,  when  you  return 
here,  to  be  allowed  to  be  the  best  scholar,  for  a  gentleman, 
in  England;  not  to  mention  the  real  pleasure  and  solid  com- 
fort which  such  knowledge  will  give  you  throughout  your 
whole  life.  Mr.  Harte  tells  me  another  thing,  which,  I  own, 
I  did  not  expect :  it  is,  that  when  you  read  aloud,  or  repeat 
parts  of  plays,  you  speak  very  properly  and  distinctly. 
This  relieves  me  from  great  uneasiness,  which  I  was  under 
upon  account  of  your  former  bad  enunciation.  Go  on,  and 
attend  most  diligently  to  this  important  article.  It  is,  of  all 
Graces  (and  they  are  all  necessary),  the  most  necessary  one. 

Comte  Pertingue,  who  has  been  here  about  a  fortnight, 
far  from  disavowing,  confirms  all  that  Mr.  Harte  has  said  to 
your  advantage.  He  thinks  that  he  shall  be  at  Turin  much 
about  the  time  of  your  arrival  there,  and  pleases  himself 
with  the  hopes  of  being  useful  to  you.  Though,  should  you 
get  there  before  him,  he  says  that  Comte  du  Perron,  with 
whom  you  are  a  favorite,  will  take  that  care.  You  see,  by 
this  one  instance,  and  in  the  course  of  your  life  you  will 
see  by  a  million  of  instances,  of  what  use  a  good  reputation 
is,  and  how  swift  and  advantageous  a  harbinger  it  is, 
wherever  one  goes.  Upon  this  point,  too,  Mr.  Harte  does 
you  justice,  and  tells  me  that  you  are  desirous  of  praise 
from  the  praiseworthy.  This  is  a  right  and  generous  am- 
bition ;  and  without  which,  I  fear,  few  people  would  deserve 
praise. 

But  here  let  me,  as  an  old  stager  upon  the  theatre  of 
the  world,  suggest  one  consideration  to  you;  which  is,  to 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  149 

extend  your  desire  of  praise  a  little  beyond  the  strictly 
praiseworthy;  or  else  you  may  be  apt  to  discover  too 
much  contempt  for  at  least  three  parts  in  five  of  the  world, 
who  will  never  forgive  it  you.  In  the  mass  of  mankind, 
I  fear,  there  is  too  great  a  majority  of  fools  and  knaves; 
who,  singly  from  their  number,  must  to  a  certain  degree  be 
respected,  though  they  are  by  no  means  respectable.  And  a 
man  who  will  show  every  knave  or  fool  that  he  thinks 
him  such,  will  engage  in  a  most  ruinous  war,  against  num- 
bers much  superior  to  those  that  he  and  his  allies  can  bring 
into  the  field.  Abhor  a  knave,  and  pity  a  fool  in  your 
heart  ;  but  let  neither  of  them,  unnecessarily,  see  that  you 
do  so.  Some  complaisance  and  attention  to  fools  is  prudent, 
and  not  mean;  as  a  silent  abhorrence  of  individual  knaves 
is  often  necessary  and  not  criminal. 

As  you  will  now  soon  part  with  Lord  Pulteney,  with 
whom,  during  your  stay  together  at  Leipsig,  I  suppose  you 
have  formed  a  connection,  I  imagine  that  you  will  continue 
it  by  letters,  which  I  would  advise  you  to  do.  They  tell 
me  that  he  is  good-natured,  and  does  not  want  parts ;  which 
are  of  themselves  two  good  reasons  for  keeping  it  up  ;  but 
there  is  also  a  third  reason,  which,  in  the  course  of  the 
world,  is  not  to  be  despised:  His  father  cannot  live  long, 
and  will  leave  him  an  immense  fortune;  which,  in  all 
events,  will  make  him  of  some  consequence;  and,  if  he  has 
parts  into  the  bargain,  of  very  great  consequence;  so  that  his 
friendship  may  be  extremely  well  worth  your  cultivating,  es- 
pecially as  it  will  not  cost  you  above  one  letter  in  one  month. 

I  do  not  know  whether  this  letter  will  find  you  at  Leip- 
sig :  at  least,  it  is  the  last  that  I  shall  direct  there.  My 
next  to  either  you  or  Mr.  Harte  will  be  directed  to  Berlin ; 
but  as  I  do  not  know  to  what  house  or  street  there,  I  sup- 
pose it  will  remain  at  the  post-house  till  you  send  for  it. 
Upon  your  arrival  at  Berlin  you  will  send  me  your  par- 
ticular direction  ;  and  also,  pray  be  minute  in  your  accounts 
of  your  reception  there,  by  those  whom  I  recommend  you 
to,  as  well  as  by  those  to  whom  they  present  you.  Remem- 
ber, too,  that  you  are  going  to  a  polite  and  literate  court, 
where  the  Graces  will  best  introduce  you. 

Adieu.  God  bless  you,  and  may  you  continue  to  deserve 
my  love,  as  much  as  you  now  enjoy  it! 


i5o  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

P.  S.  Lady  Chesterfield  bids  me  tell  you,  that  she  de- 
cides entirely  in  your  favor  against  Mr.  Grevenkop,  and 
even  against  herself;  for  she  does  not  think  that  she  could, 
at  this  time,  write  either  so  good  a  character  or  so  good 
German.  Pray  write  her  a  German  letter  upon  that  sub- 
ject, in  which  you  may  tell  her,  that,  like  the  rest  of  the 
world,  you  approve  of  her  judgment,  because  it  is  in  your 
favor;  and  that  you  true  Germans  cannot  allow  Danes  to 
be  competent  judges  of  your  language,  etc. 


LETTER    LXI 

LONDON,  December  30,  O.  S.  1748. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  direct  this  letter  to  Berlin,  where,  I  sup- 
pose, it  will  either  find  you,  or  at  least  wait  but  a 
very  little  time  for  you.  I  cannot  help  being  anx- 
ious for  your  success,  at  this  your  first  appearance  upon  the 
great  stage  of  the  world ;  for,  though  the  spectators  are 
always  candid  enough  to  give  great  allowances,  and  to 
show  great  indulgence  to  a  new  actor;  yet,  from  the  first 
impressions  which  he  makes  upon  them,  they  are  apt  to 
decide,  in  their  own  minds,  at  least,  whether  he  will  ever 
be  a  good  one,  or  not.  If  he  seems  to  understand  what  he 
says,  by  speaking  it  properly;  if  he  is  attentive  to  his  part, 
instead  of  staring  negligently  about  him;  and  if,  upon  the 
whole,  he  seems  ambitious  to  please,  they  willingly  pass  over 
little  awkwardnesses  and  inaccuracies,  which  they  ascribe 
to  a  commendable  modesty  in  a  young  and  inexperienced 
actor.  They  pronounce  that  he  will  be  a  good  one  in 
time ;  and,  by  the  encouragement  which  they  give  him, 
make  him  so  the  sooner.  This,  I  hope,  will  be  your  case : 
you  have  sense  enough  to  understand  your  part ;  a  constant 
attention,  and  ambition  to  excel  in  it,  with  a  careful  ob- 
servation of  the  best  actors,  will  inevitably  qualify  you,  if 
not  for  the  first,  at  least  for  considerable  parts. 

Your  dress  (as  insignificant  a  thing  as  dress  is  in  itself) 
is  now  become  an  object  worthy  of  some  attention;  for,  I 
confess,  I  cannot  help  forming  some  opinion  of  a  man's 
sense  and  character  from  liis  dress;  and  I  believe  most 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  151 

people  do  as  well  as  myself.  Any  affectation  whatsoever  in 
dress  implies,  in  my  mind,  a  flaw  in  the  understanding. 
Most  of  our  young  fellows  here  display  some  character  or 
other  by  their  dress ;  some  affect  the  tremendous,  and  wear 
a  great  and  fiercely  cocked  hat,  an  enormous  sword,  a  short 
waistcoat  and  a  black  cravat ;  these  I  should  be  almost 
tempted  to  swear  the  peace  against,  in  my  own  defense,  if 
I  were  not  convinced  that  they  are  but  meek  asses  in  lions' 
skins.  Others  go  in  brown  frocks,  leather  breeches,  great 
oaken  cudgels  in  their  hands,  their  hats  uncocked,  and 
their  hair  unpowdered;  and  imitate  grooms,  stage-coachmen, 
and  country  bumpkins  so  well  in  their  outsides,  that  I  do 
not  make  the  least  doubt  of  their  resembling  them  equally 
in  their  insides.  A  man  of  sense  carefully  avoids  any  par- 
ticular character  in  his  dress;  he  is  accurately  clean  for  his 
own  sake;  but  all  the  rest  is  for  other  people's.  He  dresses 
as  well,  and  in  the  same  manner,  as  the  people  of  sense 
and  fashion  of  the  place  where  he  is.  If  he  dresses  better, 
as  he  thinks,  that  is,  more  than  they,  he  is  a  fop;  if  he 
dresses  worse,  he  is  unpardonably  negligent.  But,  of  the 
two,  I  would  rather  have  a  young  fellow  too  much  than 
too  little  dressed;  the  excess  on  that  side  will  wear  off, 
with  a  little  age  and  reflection ;  but  if  he  is  negligent  at 
twenty,  he  will  be  a  sloven  at  forty,  and  stink  at  fifty 
years  old.  Dress  yourself  fine,  where  others  are  fine;  and 
plain  where  others  are  plain;  but  take  care  always  that 
your  clothes  are  well  made,  and  fit  you,  for  otherwise  they 
will  gi^e  you  a  very  awkward  air.  When  you  are  once 
well  dressed  for  the  day  think  no  more  of  it  afterward; 
and,  without  any  stiffness  for  fear  of  discomposing  that 
dress,  let  all  your  motions  be  as  easy  and  natural  as  if  you 
had  no  clothes  on  at  all.  So  much  for  dress,  which  I 
maintain  to  be  a  thing  of  consequence  in  the  polite  world. 
As  to  manners,  good-breeding,  and  the  Graces,  I  have  so 
often  entertained  you  upon  those  important  subjects,  that  I 
can  add  nothing  to  what  I  have  formerly  said.  Your  own 
good  sense  will  suggest  to  you  the  substance  of  them ;  and 
observation,  experience,  and  good  company,  the  several 
modes  of  them.  Your  great  vivacity,  which  I  hear  of  from 
many  people,  will  be  no  hindrance  to  your  pleasing  in 
good  company:  on  the  contrary,  will  be  of  use  to  you,  if 


152  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

tempered  by  good-breeding  and  accompanied  by  the  Graces. 
But  then,  I  suppose  your  vivacity  to  be  a  vivacity  of  parts, 
and  not  a  constitutional  restlessness ;  for  the  most  disagreeable 
composition  that  I  know  in  the  world,  is  that  of  strong 
animal  spirits,  with  a  cold  genius.  Such  a  fellow  is  trouble- 
somely  active,  frivolously  busy,  foolishly  lively;  talks  much 
with  little  meaning,  and  laughs  more,  with  less  reason : 
whereas,  in  my  opinion,  a  warm  and  lively  genius  with  a 
cool  constitution,  is  the  perfection  of  human  nature. 

Do  what  you  will  at  Berlin,  provided  you  do  but  do 
something  all  day  long.  All  that  I  desire  of  you  is,  that 
you  will  never  slattern  away  one  minute  in  idleness  and 
in  doing  of  nothing.  When  you  are  in  company,  learn 
what  either  books,  masters,  or  Mr.  Harte,  can  teach  you ; 
and  when  you  are  in  company,  learn  (what  company  can 
only  teach  you)  the  characters  and  manners  of  mankind. 
I  really  ask  your  pardon  for  giving  you  this  advice ;  be- 
cause, if  you  are  a  rational  creature  and  thinking  being, 
as  I  suppose,  and  verily  believe  you  are,  it  must  be  un- 
necessary, and  to  a  certain  degree  injurious.  If  I  did  not 
know  by  experience,  that  some  men  pass  their  whole  time 
in  doing  nothing,  I  should  not  think  it  possible  for  any  be- 
ing, superior  to  Monsieur  Descartes'  automatons,  to  squander 
away,  in  absolute  idleness,  one  single  minute  of  that  small 
portion  of  time  which  is  allotted  us  in  this  world. 

I  have  lately  seen  one  Mr.  Cranmer,  a  very  sensible 
merchant,  who  told  me  that  he  had  dined  with  you,  and 
seen  you  often  at  Leipsig.  And  yesterday  I  saw  an  old 
footman  of  mine,  whom  I  made  a  messenger,  who  told  me 
that  he  had  seen  you  last  August.  You  will  easily  imag- 
ine, that  I  was  not  the  less  glad  to  see  them  because  they 
had  seen  you ;  and  I  examined  them  both  narrowly,  in 
their  respective  departments ;  the  former  as  to  your  mind, 
the  latter,  as  to  your  body.  Mr.  Cranmer  gave  me  great 
satisfaction,  not  only  by  what  he  told  me  of  himself  con- 
cerning you,  but  by  what  he  was  commissioned  to  tell  me 
from  Mr.  Mascow.  As  he  speaks  German  perfectly  him- 
self, I  asked  him  how  you  spoke  it ;  and  he  assured  me 
very  well  for  the  time,  and  that  a  very  little  more  practice 
would  make  you  perfectly  master  of  it.  The  messenger 
told  me  that  you  were  much  grown,  and,  to  the  best  of 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  153 

his  guess,  within  two  inches  as  tall  as  I  am  ;  that  you  were 
plump,  and  looked  healthy  and  strong;  which  was  all  that 
I  could  expect,  or  hope,  from  the  sagacity  of  the  person. 
I  send  you,  my  dear  child  (and  you  will  not  doubt  it), 
very  sincerely,  the  wishes  of  the  season.  May  you  deserve 
a  great  number  of  happy  New-years  ;  and,  if  you  deserve, 
may  you  have  them.  Many  New-years,  indeed,  you  may 
see,  but  happy  ones  you  cannot  see  without  deserving  them. 
These,  virtue,  honor,  and  knowledge,  alone  can  merit,  alone 
can  procure,  Dii  tibi  dent  annos,  de  te  nam  c&tera  sumes, 
was  a  pretty  piece  of  poetical  flattery,  where  it  was  said  : 
I  hope  that,  in  time,  it  may  be  no  flattery  when  said  to 
you.  But  I  assure  you,  that  wherever  I  cannot  apply  the 
latter  part  of  the  line  to  you  with  truth,  I  shall  neither 
say,  think,  or  wish  the  former.  Adieu  ! 


LETTER    LXII 

LONDON,  January  10,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  have  received  your  letter  of  the  3ist  Decem- 
ber, N.  S.     Your  thanks  for  my  present,  as  you  call 
it,    exceed    the    value    of   the    present ;    but    the    use, 
which  you  assure  me  that  you  will  make  of  it,  is  the  thanks 
which  I  desire   to  receive.     Due    attention  to    the  inside  of 
books,  and  due  contempt  for  the  outside,  is  the  proper  rela- 
tion between  a  man  of  sense  and  his  books. 

Now  that  you  are  going  a  little  more  into  the  world,  I 
will  take  this  occasion  to  explain  my  intentions  as  to  your 
future  expenses,  that  you  may  know  what  you  have  to 
expect  from  me,  and  make  your  plan  accordingly.  I  shall 
neither  deny  nor  grudge  you  any  money,  that  may  be  neces- 
sary for  either  your  improvement  or  your  pleasures:  I 
mean  the  pleasures  of  a  rational  being.  Under  the  head  of 
improvement,  I  mean  the  best  books,  and  the  best  masters, 
cost  what  they  will ;  I  also  mean  all  the  expense  of  lodg- 
ings, coach,  dress,  servants,  etc.,  which,  according  to  the 
several  places  where  you  may  be,  shall  be  respectively  nec- 
essary to  enable  you  to  keep  the  best  company.  Under  the 


154  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

head  of  rational  pleasures,  I  comprehend,  first,  proper  char- 
ities, to  real  and  compassionate  objects  of  it ;  secondly, 
proper  presents  to  those  to  whom  you  are  obliged,  or  whom 
you  desire  to  oblige ;  thirdly,  a  conformity  of  expense  to 
that  of  the  company  which  you  keep ;  as  in  public  specta- 
cles ;  your  share  of  little  entertainments ;  a  few  pistoles  at 
games  of  mere  commerce ;  and  other  incidental  calls  of 
good  company.  The  only  two  articles  which  I  will  never 
supply,  are  the  profusion  of  low  riot,  and  the  idle  lavish- 
ness  of  negligence  and  laziness.  A  fool  squanders  away, 
without  credit  or  advantage  to  himself,  more  than  a  man  of 
sense  spends  with  both.  The  latter  employs  his  money  as 
he  does  his  time,  and  never  spends  a  shilling  of  the  one, 
nor  a  minute  of  the  other,  but  in  something  that  is  either 
useful  or  rationally  pleasing  to  himself  or  others.  The 
former  buys  whatever  he  does  not  want,  and  does  not  pay 
for  what  he  does  want.  He  cannot  withstand  the  charms 
of  a  toy-shop;  snuff-boxes,  watches,  heads  of  canes,  etc., 
are  his  destruction.  His  servants  and  tradesmen  conspire 
with  his  own  indolence  to  cheat  him ;  and,  in  a  very  little 
time,  he  is  astonished,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  ridiculous 
superfluities,  to  find  himself  in  want  of  all  the  real  com- 
forts and  necessaries  of  life.  Without  care  and  method,  the 
largest  fortune  will  not,  and  with  them,  almost  the  smallest 
will,  supply  all  necessary  expenses.  As  far  as  you  can 
possibly,  pay  ready  money  for  everything  you  buy  and 
avoid  bills.  Pay  that  money,  too,  yourself,  and  not  through 
the  hands  of  any  servant,  who  always  either  stipulates 
poundage,  or  requires  a  present  for  his  good  word,  as  they 
call  it.  Where  you  must  have  bills  (as  for  meat  and 
drink,  clothes,  etc.),  pay  them  regularly  every  month,  and 
with  your  own  hand.  Never,  from  a  mistaken  economy, 
buy  a  thing  you  do  not  want,  because  it  is  cheap ;  or  from 
a  silly  pride,  because  it  is  dear.  Keep  an  account  in  a 
book  of  all  that  you  receive,  and  of  all  that  you  pay;  for 
no  man  who  knows  what  he  receives  and  what  he  pays 
ever  runs  out.  I  do  not  mean  that  you  should  keep  an 
account  of  the  shillings  and  half-crowns  which  you  may 
spend  in  chair-hire,  operas,  etc.  :  they  are  unworthy  of  the 
time,  and  of  the  ink  that  they  would  consume ;  leave  such 
minutiae  to  dull,  penny-wise  fellows;  but  remember,  in 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  155 

economy,  as  well  as  in  every  other  part  of  life,  to  have  the 
proper  attention  to  proper  objects,  and  the  proper  contempt 
for  little  ones.  A  strong  mind  sees  things  in  their  true 
proportions ;  a  weak  one  views  them  through  a  magnifying 
medium,  which,  like  the  microscope,  makes  an  elephant  of 
a  flea :  magnifies  all  little  objects,  but  cannot  receive  great 
ones.  I  have  known  many  a  man  pass  for  a  miser,  by 
saving  a  penny  and  wrangling  for  twopence,  who  was 
undoing  himself  at  the  same  time  by  living  above  his 
income,  and  not  attending  to  essential  articles  which  were 
above  his  portde.  The  sure  characteristic  of  a  sound  and 
strong  mind,  is  to  find  in  everything  those  certain  bounds, 
quos  ultra  citrave  nequit  consistere  rectum.  These  bound- 
aries are  marked  out  by  a  very  fine  line,  which  only  good 
sense  and  attention  can  discover;  it  is  much  too  fine  for 
vulgar  eyes.  In  manners,  this  line  is  good-breeding ;  beyond 
it,  is  troublesome  ceremony;  short  of  it,  is  unbecoming 
negligence  and  inattention.  In  morals,  it  divides  ostenta- 
tious puritanism  from  criminal  relaxation ;  in  religion,  super- 
stition from  impiety  :  and,  in  short,  every  virtue  from  its 
kindred  vice  or  weakness.  I  think  you  have  sense  enough 
to  discover  the  line ;  keep  it  always  in  your  eye,  and  learn 
to  walk  upon  it ;  rest  upon  Mr.  Harte,  and  he  will  poise 
you  till  you  are  able  to  go  alone.  By  the  way,  there  are 
fewer  people  who  walk  well  upon  that  line,  than  upon  the 
slack  rope ;  and  therefore  a  good  performer  shines  so  much 
the  more. 

Your  friend  Comte  Pertingue,  who  constantly  inquires 
after  you,  has  written  to  Comte  Salmour,  the  Governor  of 
the  Academy  at  Turin,  to  prepare  a  room  for  you  there 
immediately  after  the  Ascension :  and  has  recommended 
you  to  him  in  a  manner  which  I  hope  you  will  give  him 
no  reason  to  repent  or  be  ashamed  of.  As  Comte  Salmour's 
son,  now  residing  at  The  Hague,  is  my  particular  acquaint- 
ance, I  shall  have  regular  and  authentic  accounts  of  all  that 
you  do  at  Turin. 

During  your  stay  at  Berlin,  I  expect  that  you  should  in- 
form yourself  thoroughly  of  the  present  state  of  the  civil, 
military,  and  ecclesiastical  government  of  the  King  of  Prussia's 
dominions;  particularly  of  the  military,  which  is  upon  a 
better  footing  in  that  country  than  in  any  other  in  Europe. 


156  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

You  will  attend  at  the  reviews,  see  the  troops  exercised, 
and  inquire  into  the  numbers  of  troops  and  companies  in 
the  respective  regiments  of  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons;  the 
numbers  and  titles  of  the  commissioned  and  non-commissioned 
officers  in  the  several  troops  and  companies;  and  also  take 
care  to  learn  the  technical  military  terms  in  the  German 
language;  for  though  you  are  not  to  be  a  military  man,  yet 
these  military  matters  are  so  frequently  the  subject  of  con- 
yersation,  that  you  will  look  very  awkwardly  if  you  are 
ignorant  of  them.  Moreover,  they  are  commonly  the  objects 
of  negotiation,  and,  as  such,  fall  within  your  future  pro- 
fession. You  must  also  inform  yourself  of  the  reformation 
which  the  King  of  Prussia  has  lately  made  in  the  law;  by 
which  he  has  both  lessened  the  number,  and  shortened  the 
duration  of  law-suits ;  a  great  work,  and  worthy  of  so  great 
a  prince !  As  he  is  indisputably  the  ablest  prince  in  Europe, 
every  part  of  his  government  deserves  your  most  diligent 
inquiry,  and  your  most  serious  attention.  It  must  be  owned 
that  you  set  out  well,  as  a  young  politician,  by  beginning 
at  Berlin,  and  then  going  to  Turin,  where  you  will  see  the 
next  ablest  monarch  to  that  of  Prussia;  so  that,  if  you  are 
capable  of  making  political  reflections,  those  two  princes 
will  furnish  you  with  sufficient  matter  for  them. 

I  would  have  you  endeavor  to  get  acquainted  with  Mon- 
sieur de  Maupertuis,  who  is  so  eminently  distinguished  by 
all  kinds  of  learning  and  merit,  that  one  should  be  both 
sorry  and  ashamed  of  having  been  even  a  day  in  the  same 
place  with  him,  and  not  to  have  seen  him.  If  you  should 
have  no  other  way  of  being  introduced  to  him,  I  will  send 
you  a  letter  from  hence.  Monsieur  Cagenoni,  at  Berlin,  to 
whom  I  know  you  are  recommended,  is  a  very  able  man  of 
business,  thoroughly  informed  of  every  part  of  Europe ;  and 
his  acquaintance,  if  you  deserve  and  improve  it  as  you  should 
do,  may  be  of  great  use  to  you. 

Remember  to  take  the  best  dancing-master  at  Berlin, 
more  to  teach  you  to  sit,  stand,  and  walk  gracefully,  than 
to  dance  finely.  The  Graces,  the  Graces ;  remember  the 
Graces !  Adieu ! 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  157 


LETTER     LXIII 

LONDON,  January  24,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  have  received  your  letter  of  the  I2th,  N. 
S.,  in  which  I  was  surprised  to  find  no  mention  of 
your  approaching  journey  to  Berlin,  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  first  plan,  was  to  be  on  the  2oth,  N.  S.,  and 
upon  which  supposition  I  have  for  some  time  directed  my 
letters  to  you,  and  Mr.  Harte,  at  Berlin.  I  should  be  glad 
that  yours  were  more  minute  with  regard  to  your  motions 
and  transactions;  and  I  desire  that,  for  the  future,  they 
may  contain  accounts  of  what  and  who  you  see  and  hear,  in 
your  several  places  of  residence;  for  I  interest  myself  as  much 
in  the  company  you  keep,  and  the  pleasures  you  take,  as  in 
the  studies  you  pursue;  and  therefore,  equally  desire  to  be 
informed  of  them  all.  Another  thing  I  desire,  which  is, 
that  you  will  acknowledge  my  letters  by  their  dates,  that  I 
may  know  which  you  do,  and  which  you  do  not  receive. 

As  you  found  your  brain  considerably  affected  by  the 
cold,  you  were  very  prudent  not  to  turn  it  to  poetry  in 
that  situation ;  and  not  less  judicious  in  declining  the  bor- 
rowed aid  of  a  stove,  whose  fumigation,  instead  of  inspiration, 
would  at  best  have  produced  what  Mr.  Pope  calls  a  souterkin 
of  wit.  I  will  show  your  letter  to  Duval,  by  way  of  jus- 
tification for  not  answering  his  challenge ;  and  I  think  he 
must  allow  the  validity  of  it ;  for  a  frozen  brain  is  as  unfit 
to  answer  a  challenge  in  poetry,  as  a  blunt  sword  is  for  a 
single  combat. 

You  may  if  you  please,  and  therefore  I  flatter  myself 
that  you  will,  profit  considerably  by  your  stay  at  Berlin,  in 
the  article  of  manners  and  useful  knowledge.  Attention  to 
what  you  will  see  and  hear  there,  together  with  proper 
inquiries,  and  a  little  care  and  method  in  taking  notes  of 
what  is  more  material,  will  procure  you  much  useful  know- 
ledge. Many  young  people  are  so  light,  so  dissipated,  and 
so  incurious,  that  they  can  hardly  be  said  to  see  what  they 
see,  or  hear  what  they  hear:  that  is,  they  hear  in  so  super- 
ficial and  inattentive  a  manner,  that  they  might  as  well  not 
see  nor  hear  at  all.  For  instance,  if  they  see  a  public 


158  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

building,  as  a  college,  an  hospital,  an  arsenal,  etc.,  they 
content  themselves  with  the  first  coup  d'ceil,  and  neither 
take  the  time  nor  the  trouble  of  informing  themselves  of 
the  material  parts  of  them;  which  are  the  constitution,  the 
rules,  and  the  order  and  economy  in  the  inside.  You 
will,  I  hope,  go  deeper,  and  make  your  way  into  the  sub- 
stance of  things.  For  example,  should  you  see  a  regiment 
reviewed  at  Berlin  or  Potsdam,  instead  of  contenting  yourself 
with  the  general  glitter  of  the  collective  corps,  and  saying, 
par  manure  a"  acquit,  that  is  very  fine,  I  hope  you  will  ask 
what  number  of  troops  or  companies  it  consists  of;  what 
number  of  officers  of  the  Etat  Major,  and  what  number  of 
subalternes;  how  many  bas  officiers,  or  non-commissioned 
officers,  as  sergeants,  corporals,  anspessades,  frey  cor- 
porals, etc.,  their  pay,  their  clothing,  and  by  whom;  whether 
by  the  colonels,  or  captains,  or  commissaries  appointed 
for  that  purpose;  to  whom  they  are  accountable;  the  method 
of  recruiting,  completing,  etc. 

The  same  in  civil  matters :  inform  yourself  of  the  juris 
diction  of  a  court  of  justice ;  of  the  rules  and  numbers  and 
endowments  of  a  college,  or  an  academy,  and  not  only  of 
the  dimensions  of  the  respective  edifices;  and  let  your  letters 
to  me  contain  these  informations,  in  proportion  as  you 
acquire  them. 

I  often  reflect,  with  the  most  flattering  hopes,  how  proud 
I  shall  be  of  you,  if  you  should  profit,  as  you  may,  of  the 
opportunities  which  you  have  had,  still  have,  and  will  have, 
of  arriving  at  perfection;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  with 
dread  of  the  grief  and  shame  you  will  give  me  if  you  do 
not.  May  the  first  be  the  case !  God  bless  you ! 


LETTER   LXIV 

LONDON,  February  7,  O.  S.  1749. 

DBAR  BOY  :  You    are  now  come    to    an    age    capable    of 
reflection,  and  I  hope    you    will    do,   what,   however? 
few   people  at  your    age    do,  exert    it    for   your    own 
sake    in    the    search    of    truth    and    sound    knowledge.       I 
will    confess     (for    I    am    not     unwilling    to    discover    my 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  159 

secrets  to  you)  that  it  is  not  many  years  since  I  have 
presumed  to  reflect  for  myself.  Till  sixteen  or  seven- 
teen I  had  no  reflection ;  and  for  many  years  after 
that,  I  made  no  use  of  what  I  had.  I  adopted  the  notions 
of  the  books  I  read,  or  the  company  I  kept,  without  ex- 
amining whether  they  were  just  or  not ;  and  I  rather  chose 
to  run  the  risk  of  easy  error,  than  to  take  the  time  and 
trouble  of  investigating  truth.  Thus,  partly  from  laziness, 
partly  from  dissipation,  and  partly  from  the  mauvaise  honte 
of  rejecting  fashionable  notions,  I  was  (as  I  have  since 
found)  hurried  away  by  prejudices,  instead  of  being  guided 
by  reason ;  and  quietly  cherished  error,  instead  of  seek- 
ing for  truth.  But  since  I  have  taken  the  trouble  of  reason- 
ing for  myself,  and  have  had  the  courage  to  own  that  I  do 
so,  you  cannot  imagine  how  much  my  notions  of  things  are 
altered,  and  in  how  different  a  light  I  now  see  them,  from 
that  in  which  I  formerly  viewed  them,  through  the  deceit- 
ful medium  of  prejudice  or  authority.  Nay,  I  may  possibly 
still  retain  many  errors,  which,  from  long  habit,  have  perhaps 
grown  into  real  opinions ;  for  it  is  very  difficult  to  distinguish 
habits,  early  acquired  and  long  entertained,  from  the  result 
of  our  reason  and  reflection. 

My  first  prejudice  (for  I  do  not  mention  the  prejudices 
of  boys  and  women,  such  as  hobgoblins,  ghosts,  dreams, 
spilling  salt,  etc.)  was  my  classical  enthusiasm,  which  I  re- 
ceived from  the  books  I  read,  and  the  masters  who  explained 
them  to  me.  I  was  convinced  there  had  been  no  common 
sense  nor  common  honesty  in  the  world  for  these  last  fifteen 
hundred  years ;  but  that  they  were  totally  extinguished  with 
the  ancient  Greek  and  Roman  governments.  Homer  and 
Virgil  could  have  no  faults,  because  they  were  ancient; 
Milton  and  Tasso  could  have  no  merit,  because  they  were 
modern.  And  I  could  almost  have  said,  with  regard  to  the 
ancients,  what  Cicero,  very  absurdly  and  unbecomingly  for 
a  philosopher,  says  with  regard  to  Plato,  Cum  quo  errare 
malim  quam  cum  aliis  recte  sentire.  Whereas  now,  with- 
out any  extraordinary  effort  of  genius,  I  have  discovered 
that  nature  was  the  same  three  thousand  years  ago  as  it  is 
at  present ;  that  men  were  but  men  then  as  well  as  now ; 
that  modes  and  customs  vary  often,  but  that  human  nature 
is  always  the  same.  And  I  can  no  more  suppose  that  men 


160  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

were  better,  braver,  or  wiser,  fifteen  hundred  or  three 
thousand  years  ago,  than  I  can  suppose  that  the  animals  or 
vegetables  were  better  then  than  they  are  now.  I  dare 
assert  too,  in  defiance  of  the  favorers  of  the  ancients,  that 
Homer's  hero,  Achilles,  was  both  a  brute  and  a  scoundrel, 
and  consequently  an  improper  character  for  the  hero  of  an 
epic  poem;  he  had  so  little  regard  for  his  country,  that  he 
would  not  act  in  defense  of  it,  because  he  had  quarreled 
with  Agamemnon  about  a  w e ;  and  then  afterward,  ani- 
mated by  private  resentment  only,  he  went  about  killing 
people  basely,  I  will  call  it,  because  he  knew  himself  invul- 
nerable; and  yet,  invulnerable  as  he  was,  he  wore  the 
strongest  armor  in  the  world;  which  I  humbly  apprehend 
to  be  a  blunder;  for  a  horse-shoe  clapped  to  his  vulnerable 
heel  would  have  been  sufficient.  On  the  other  hand,  with 
submission  to  the  favorers  of  the  moderns,  I  assert  with 
Mr.  Dryden,  that  the  devil  is  in  truth  the  hero  of  Milton's 
poem;  his  plan,  which  he  lays,  pursues,  and  at  last  executes, 
being  the  subject  of  the  poem.  From  all  which  consider- 
ations I  impartially  conclude  that  the  ancients  had  their 
excellencies  and  their  defects,  their  virtues  and  their  vices, 
just  like  the  moderns;  pedantry  and  affectation  of  learning 
decide  clearly  in  favor  of  the  former;  vanity  and  ignorance, 
as  peremptorily  in  favor  of  the  latter.  Religious  prejudices 
kept  pace  with  my  classical  ones;  and  there  was  a  time 
when  I  thought  it  impossible  for  the  honestest  man  in  the 
world  to  be  saved  out  of  the  pale  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, not  considering  that  matters  of  opinion  do  not  depend 
upon  the  will;  and  that  it  is  as  natural,  and  as  allowable, 
that  another  man  should  differ  in  opinion  from  me,  as  that 
I  should  differ  from  him;  and  that  if  we  are  both  sincere, 
we  are  both  blameless ;  and  should  consequently  have  mutual 
indulgence  for  each  other. 

The  next  prejudices  that  I  adopted  were  those  of  the 
beau  monde,  in  which  as  I  was  determined  to  shine,  I  took 
what  are  commonly  called  the  genteel  vices  to  be  neces- 
sary. I  had  heard  them  reckoned  so,  and  without  further 
inquiry  I  believed  it,  or  at  least  should  have  been  ashamed 
to  have  denied  it,  for  fear  of  exposing  myself  to  the  ridi- 
cule of  those  whom  I  considered  as  the  models  of  fine 
gentlemen.  But  I  am  now  neither  ashamed  nor  afraid  to 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  161 

assert  that  those  genteel  vices,  as  they  are  falsely  called, 
are  only  so  many  blemishes  in  the  character  of  even  a  man 
of  the  world  and  what  is  called  a  fine  gentleman,  and  de- 
grade him  in  the  opinions  of  those  very  people,  to  whom 
he  hopes  to  recommend  himself  by  them.  Nay,  this  prej- 
udice often  extends  so  far,  that  I  have  known  people 
pretend  to  vices  they  had  not,  instead  of  carefully  conceal- 
ing those  they  had. 

Use  and  assert  your  own  reason;  reflect,  examine,  and 
analyze  everything,  in  order  to  form  a  sound  and  mature 
judgment;  let  no  oyroy  e^a  impose  upon  your  understanding, 
mislead  your  actions,  or  dictate  your  conversation.  Be  early 
what,  if  you  are  not,  you  will  when  too  late  wish  you  had 
been.  Consult  your  reason  betimes:  I  do  not  say  that  it 
will  always  prove  an  unerring  guide;  for  human  reason  is 
not  infallible;  but  it  will  prove  the  least  erring  guide  that 
you  can  follow.  Books  and  conversation  may  assist  it ;  but 
adopt  neither  blindly  and  implicitly;  try  both  by  that  best 
rule,  which  God  has  given  to  direct  us,  reason.  Of  all  the 
troubles,  do  not  decline,  as  many  people  do,  that  of  think- 
ing. The  herd  of  mankind  can  hardly  be  said  to  think; 
their  notions  are  almost  all  adoptive;  and,  in  general,  I  be- 
lieve it  is  better  that  it  should  be  so,  as  such  common  prej- 
udices contribute  more  to  order  and  quiet  than  their  own 
separate  reasonings  would  do,  uncultivated  and  unimproved 
as  they  are.  We  have  many  of  those  useful  prejudices  in 
this  country,  which  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  removed. 
The  good  Protestant  conviction,  that  the  Pope  is  both  Anti- 
christ and  the  Whore  of  Babylon,  is  a  more  effectual  pre- 
servative in  this  country  against  popery,  than  all  the  solid 
and  unanswerable  arguments  of  Chillingworth. 

The  idle  story  of  the  pretender's  having  been  introduced 
in  a  warming  pan  into  the  Queen's  bed,  though  as  desti- 
tute of  all  probability  as  of  all  foundation,  has  been  much 
more  prejudicial  to  the  cause  of  Jacobitism  than  all  that 
Mr.  Locke  and  others  have  written,  to  show  the  unreason- 
ableness and  absurdity  of  the  doctrines  of  indefeasible  he- 
reditary right,  and  unlimited  passive  obedience.  And  that 
silly,  sanguine  notion,  which  is  firmly  entertained  here,  that 
one  Englishman  can  beat  three  Frenchmen,  encourages,  and 
has  sometimes  enabled,  one  Englishman  in  reality  to  beat  two. 


162  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

A  Frenchman  ventures  his  life  with  alacrity  four  I'hon- 
neur  du  Roi ;  were  you  to  change  the  object,  which  he  has 
been  taught  to  have  in  view,  and  tell  him  that  it  -was  flour 
le  bien  de  la  Patrie,  he  would  very  probably  run  away. 
Such  gross  local  prejudices  prevail  with  the  herd  of  man- 
kind, and  do  not  impose  upon  cultivated,  informed,  and 
reflecting  minds.  But  then  they  are  notions  equally  false, 
though  not  so  glaringly  absurd,  which  are  entertained  by 
people  of  superior  and  improved  understandings,  merely  for 
want  of  the  necessary  pains  to  investigate,  the  proper  atten- 
tion to  examine,  and  the  penetration  requisite  to  determine 
the  truth.  Those  are  the  prejudices  which  I  would  have 
you  guard  against  by  a  manly  exertion  and  attention  of 
your  reasoning  faculty.  To  mention  one  instance  of  a 
thousand  that  I  could  give  you:  It  is  a  general  prejudice, 
and  has  been  propagated  for  these  sixteen  hundred  years, 
that  arts  and  sciences  cannot  flourish  under  an  absolute 
government ;  and  that  genius  must  necessarily  be  cramped 
where  freedom  is  restrained.  This  sounds  plausible,  but  is 
false  in  fact.  Mechanic  arts,  as  agriculture,  etc.,  will  in- 
deed be  discouraged  where  the  profits  and  property  are, 
from  the  nature  of  the  government,  insecure.  But  why 
the  despotism  of  a  government  should  cramp  the  genius  of 
a  mathematician,  an  astronomer,  a  poet,  or  an  orator,  I 
confess  I  never  could  discover.  It  may  indeed  deprive  the 
poet  or  the  orator  of  the  liberty  of  treating  of  certain  sub- 
jects in  the  manner  they  would  wish,  but  it  leaves  them 
subjects  enough  to  exert  genius  upon,  if  they  have  it.  Can 
an  author  with  reason  complain  that  he  is  cramped  and 
shackled,  if  he  is  not  at  liberty  to  publish  blasphemy, 
bawdry,  or  sedition?  all  which  are  equally  prohibited  in 
the  freest  governments,  if  they  are  wise  and  well  regulated 
ones.  This  is  the  present  general  complaint  of  the  French 
authors  ;  but  indeed  chiefly  of  the  bad  ones.  No  wonder, 
say  they,  that  England  produces  so  many  great  geniuses ; 
people  there  may  think  as  they  please,  and  publish  what 
they  think.  Very  true,  but  what  hinders  them  from  thinking 
as  they  please?  If  indeed  they  think  in  manner  destructive 
of  all  religion,  morality,  or  good  manners,  or  to  the  disturb- 
ance of  the  state,  an  absolute  government  will  certainly  more 
effectually  prohibit  them  from,  or  punish  them  for  publishing 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  165 

such  thoughts,  than  a  free  one  could  do.  But  how  does  that 
cramp  the  genius  of  an  epic,  dramatic,  or  lyric  poet?  or 
how  does  it  corrupt  the  eloquence  of  an  orator  in  the  pul- 
pit or  at  the  bar?  The  number  of  good  French  authors, 
such  as  Corneille,  Racine,  Moliere,  Boileau,  and  La  Fon- 
taine, who  seemed  to  dispute  it  with  the  Augustan  age, 
flourished  under  the  despotism  of  Lewis  XIV. ;  and  the 
celebrated  authors  of  the  Augustan  age  did  not  shine  till 
after  the  fetters  were  riveted  upon  the  Roman  people  by 
that  cruel  and  worthless  Emperor.  The  revival  of  letters 
was  not  owing,  neither,  to  any  free  government,  but  to  the 
encouragement  and  protection  of  Leo  X.  and  Francis  I. ; 
the  one  as  absolute  a  pope,  and  the  other  as  despotic  a 
prince,  as  ever  reigned.  Do  not  mistake,  and  imagine  that 
while  I  am  only  exposing  a  prejudice,  I  am  speaking  in 
favor  of  arbitrary  power ;  which  from  my  soul  I  abhor,  and 
look  upon  as  a  gross  and  criminal  violation  of  the  natural 
rights  of  mankind.  Adieu. 


LETTER  LXV 

LONDON,  February  28,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  was  very  much  pleased  with  the  account 
that  you  gave  me  of  your  reception  at  Berlin ;  but  I 
was  still  better  pleased  with  the  account  which  Mr. 
Harte  sent  me  of  your  manner  of  receiving  that  reception ; 
for  he  says  that  you  behaved  yourself  to  those  crowned 
heads  with  all  the  respect  and  modesty  due  to  them ;  but  at 
the  same  time,  without  being  any  more  embarrassed  than 
if  you  had  been  conversing  with  your  equals.  This  easy 
respect  is  the  perfection  of  good-breeding,  which  nothing; 
but  superior  good  sense,  or  a  long  usage  of  the  world,  can 
produce ;  and  as  in  your  case  it  could  not  be  the  latter, 
it  is  a  pleasing  indication  to  me  of  the  former. 

You  will  now,  in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  have  been 
rubbed  at  three  of  the  considerable  courts  of  Europe, — Ber- 
lin, Dresden,  and  Vienna;  so  that  I  hope  you  will  arrive 
at  Turin  tolerably  smooth  and  fit  for  the  last  polish.  There 
you  may  get  the  best,  there  being  no  court  I  know  of  that 


i64  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

forms  more  well-bred  and  agreeable  people.  Remember 
now,  that  good-breeding,  genteel  carriage,  address,  and  even 
dress  (to  a  certain  degree),  are  become  serious  objects, 
and  deserve  a  part  of  your  attention. 

The  day,  if  well  employed,  is  long  enough  for  them  all. 
One  half  of  it  bestowed  upon  your  studies  and  your  exer- 
cises, will  finish  your  mind  and  your  body ;  the  remaining 
part  of  it,  spent  in  good  company,  will  form  your  man- 
ners, and  complete  your  character.  What  would  I  not  give 
to  have  you  read  Demosthenes  critically  in  the  morning, 
and  understand  him  better  than  anybody ;  at  noon,  be- 
have yourself  better  than  any  person  at  court ;  and  in  the 
evenings,  trifle  more  agreeably  than  anybody  in  mixed  com- 
panies ?  All  this  you  may  compass  if  you  please ;  you  have 
the  means,  you  have  the  opportunities.  Employ  them,  for 
God's  sake,  while  you  may,  and  make  yourself  that  all- 
accomplished  man  that  I  wish  to  have  you.  It  entirely 
depends  upon  these  two  years ;  they  are  the  decisive  ones. 

I  send  you  here  inclosed  a  letter  of  recommendation  to 
Monsieur  Capello,  at  Venice,  which  you  will  deliver  him 
immediately  upon  your  arrival,  accompanying  it  with  com- 
pliments from  me  to  him  and  Madame,  both  of  whom  you 
have  seen  here.  He  will,  I  am  sure,  be  both  very  civil 
and  very  useful  to  you  there,  as  he  will  also  be  afterward 
at  Rome,  where  he  is  appointed  to  go  ambassador.  By  the 
way,  wherever  you  are,  I  would  advise  you  to  frequent,  as 
much  as  you  can,  the  Venetian  Ministers;  who  are  always 
better  informed  of  the  courts  they  reside  at  than  any  other 
minister;  the  strict  and  regular  accounts,  which  they  are 
obliged  to  give  to  their  own  government,  making  them  very 
diligent  and  inquisitive. 

You  will  stay  at  Venice  as  long  as  the  Carnival  lasts ; 
for  though  I  am  impatient  to  have  you  at  Turin,  yet  I 
would  wish  you  to  see  thoroughly  all  that  is  to  be  seen  at 
so  singular  a  place  as  Venice,  and  at  so  showish  a  time  as 
the  Carnival.  You  will  take  also  particular  care  to  view 
all  those  meetings  of  the  government,  which  strangers  are 
allowed  to  see;  as  the  Assembly  of  the  Senate,  etc.,  and 
also  to  inform  yourself  of  that  peculiar  and  intricate  form 
of  government.  There  are  books  which  give  an  account  of 
it,  among  which  the  best  is  Amelot  de  la  Houssaye,  which 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  165 

I  would  advise  you  to  read  previously;  it  will  not  only 
give  you  a  general  notion  of  that  constitution,  but  also 
furnish  you  with  materials  for  proper  questions  and  oral 
informations  upon  the  place,  which  are  always  the  best. 
There  are  likewise  many  very  valuable  remains,  in  sculpture 
and  paintings,  of  the  best  masters,  which  deserve  your 
attention. 

I  suppose  you  will  be  at  Vienna  as  soon  as  this  letter 
will  get  thither;  and  I  suppose,  too,  that  I  must  not  direct 
above  one  more  to  you  there.  After  which,  my  next  shall 
be  directed  to  you  at  Venice,  the  only  place  where  a  letter 
will  be  likely  to  find  you,  till  you  are  at  Turin;  but  you 
may,  and  I  desire  that  you  will  write  to  me,  from  the 
several  places  in  your  way,  from  whence  the  post  goes. 

I  will  send  you  some  other  letters  for  Venice,  to  Vienna, 
or  to  your  banker  at  Venice,  to  whom  you  will,  upon  your 
arrival  there,  send  for  them:  For  I  will  take  care  to  have 
you  so  recommended  from  place  to  place,  that  you  shall 
not  run  through  them,  as  most  of  your  countrymen  do, 
without  the  advantage  of  seeing  and  knowing  what  best 
deserves  to  be  seen  and  known;  I  mean  the  men  and  the 
manners. 

God  bless  you,  and  make  you  answer  my  wishes :  I  will 
now  say,  my  hopes!  Adieu. 


LETTER    LXVI 

DEAR  BOY:  I  direct  this  letter  to  your  banker  at  Venice, 
the  surest  place  for  you  to  meet  with  it,  though  I 
suppose  that  it  will  be  there  some  time  before  you ; 
for,  as  your  intermediate  stay  anywhere  else  will  be  short, 
and  as  the  post  from  hence,  in  this  season  of  easterly  winds 
is  uncertain,  I  direct  no  more  letters  to  Vienna;  where  I 
hope  both  you  and  Mr.  Harte  will  have  received  the  two 
letters  which  I  sent  you  respectively ;  with  a  letter  of 
recommendation  to  Monsieur  Capello,  at  Venice,  which  was 
inclosed  in  mine  to  you.  I  will  suppose  too,  that  the 
inland  post  on  your  side  of  the  water  has  not  done  you 
justice;  for  I  received  but  one  single  letter  from  you,  and 


1 66  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

one  from  Mr.  Harte,  during  your  whole  stay  at  Berlin; 
from  whence  I  hoped  for,  and  expected  very  particular 
accounts. 

I  persuade  myself,  that  the  time  you  stay  at  Venice  will 
be  properly  employed,  in  seeing  all  that  is  to  be  seen  in 
that  extraordinary  place :  and  in  conversing  with  people 
who  can  inform  you,  not  of  the  raree-shows  of  the  town, 
but  of  the  constitution  of  the  government ;  for  which  pur- 
pose I  send  you  the  inclosed  letters  of  recommendation 
from  Sir  James  Grey,  the  King's  Resident  at  Venice,  but 
who  is  now  in  England.  These,  with  mine  to  Monsieur 
Capello,  will  carry  you,  if  you  will  go,  into  all  the  best 
company  at  Venice. 

But  the  important  point,  and  the  important  place,  is 
Turin;  for  there  I  propose  your  staying  a  considerable  time, 
to  pursue  your  studies,  learn  your  exercises,  and  form  your 
manners.  I  own,  I  am  not  without  my  anxiety  for  the 
'Consequence  of  your  stay  there,  which  must  be  either  very 
good  or  very  bad.  To  you  it  will  be  entirely  a  new  scene. 
Wherever  you  have  hitherto  been,  you  have  conversed, 
chiefly,  with  people  wiser  and  discreeter  than  yourself;  and 
have  been  equally  out  of  the  way  of  bad  advice  or  bad 
example ;  but  in  the  Academy  at  Turin  you  will  probably 
meet  with  both,  considering  the  variety  of  young  fellows 
about  your  own  age ;  among  whom  it  is  to  be  expected 
that  some  will  be  dissipated  and  idle,  others  vicious  and 
profligate.  I  will  believe,  till  the  contrary  appears,  that 
you  have  sagacity  enough  to  distinguish  the  good  from  the 
bad  characters;  and  both  sense  and  virtue  enough  to  shun 
the  latter,  and  connect  yourself  with  the  former:  but  how- 
ever, for  greater  security,  and  for  your  sake  alone,  I  must 
acquaint  you  that  I  have  sent  positive  orders  to  Mr.  Harte 
to  carry  you  off,  instantly,  to  a  place  which  I  have  named 
to  him,  upon  the  very  first  symptom  which  he  shall  discover 
In  you,  of  drinking,  gaming,  idleness,  or  disobedience  to 
his  orders ;  so  that,  whether  Mr.  Harte  informs  me  or  not 
of  the  particulars,  I  shall  be  able  to  judge  of  your  conduct 
in  general  by  the  time  of  your  stay  at  Turin.  If  it  is 
short,  I  shall  know  why ;  and  I  promise  you,  that  you  shall 
soon  find  that  I  do ;  but  if  Mr.  Harte  lets  you  continue 
there,  as  long  as  I  propose  that  you  should,  I  shall  then  be 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  167 

convinced  that  you  make  the  proper  use  of  your  time; 
which  is  the  only  thing  I  have  to  ask  of  you.  One  year 
is  the  most  that  I  propose  you  should  stay  at  Turin;  and 
that  year,  if  you  employ  it  well,  perfects  you.  One  year 
more  of  your  late  application,  with  Mr.  Harte,  will  com- 
plete your  classical  studies.  You  will  be  likewise  master 
of  your  exercises  in  that  time ;  and  will  have  formed  your- 
self so  well  at  that  court,  as  to  be  fit  to  appear  advantageously 
at  any  other.  These  will  be  the  happy  effects  of  your 
year's  stay  at  Turin,  if  you  behave,  and  apply  yourself 
there  as  you  have  done  at  Leipsig;  but  if  either  ill  advice, 
or  ill  example,  affect  and  seduce  you,  you  are  ruined  forever. 
I  look  upon  that  year  as  your  decisive  year  of  probation; 
go  through  it  well,  and  you  will  be  all  accomplished,  and 
fixed  in  my  tenderest  affection  forever;  but  should  the  con- 
tagion of  vice  or  idleness  lay  hold  of  you  there,  your 
character,  your  fortune,  my  hopes,  and  consequently  my 
favor  are  all  blasted,  and  you  are  undone.  The  more  I 
love  you  now,  from  the  good  opinion  I  have  of  you,  the 
greater  will  be  my  indignation  if  I  should  have  reason  to 
change  it.  Hitherto  you  have  had  every  possible  proof  of 
my  affection,  because  you  have  deserved  it ;  but  when  you 
cease  to  deserve  it,  you  may  expect  every  possible  mark  of 
my  resentment.  To  leave  nothing  doubtful  upon  this  im- 
portant point  I  will  tell  you  fairly,  beforehand,  by  what 
rule  I  shall  judge  of  your  conduct  —  by  Mr.  Harte's  accounts. 
He  will  not  I  am  sure,  nay,  I  will  say  more,  he  cannot  be 
in  the  wrong  with  regard  to  you.  He  can  have  no  other 
view  but  your  good ;  and  you  will,  I  am  sure,  allow  that 
he  must  be  a  better  judge  of  it  than  you  can  possibly  be 
at  your  age.  While  he  is  satisfied,  I  shall  be  so  too;  but 
whenever  he  is  dissatisfied  with  you,  I  shall  be  much  more 
so.  If  he  complains,  you  must  be  guilty;  and  I  shall  not 
have  the  least  regard  for  anything  that  you  may  allege  in 
your  own  defense. 

I  will  now  tell  you  what  I  expect  and  insist  upon  from 
you  at  Turin:  First,  that  you  pursue  your  classical  and 
other  studies  every  morning  with  Mr.  Harte,  as  long  and 
in  whatever  manner  Mr.  Harte  shall  be  pleased  to  require ; 
secondly,  that  you  learn,  uninterruptedly,  your  exercises  of 
riding,  dancing,  and  fencing;  thirdly,  that  you  make 


168  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

yourself  master  of  the  Italian  language;  and  lastly,  that 
you  pass  your  evenings  in  the  best  company.  I  also  require 
a  strict  conformity  to  the  hours  and  rules  of  the  Academy. 
If  you  will  but  finish  your  year  in  this  manner  at  Turin,  I 
have  nothing  further  to  ask  of  you ;  and  I  will  give  you 
everything  that  you  can  ask  of  me.  You  shall  after  that 
be  entirely  your  own  master  ;  I  shall  think  you  safe  ;  shall 
lay  aside  all  authority  over  you,  and  friendship  shall  be 
our  mutual  and  only  tie.  Weigh  this,  I  beg  of  you,  delib- 
erately in  your  own  mind;  and  consider  whether  the 
application  and  the  degree  of  restraint  which  I  require  but 
for  one  year  more,  will  not  be  amply  repaid  by  all  the 
advantages,  and  the  perfect  liberty,  which  you  will  receive 
at  the  end  of  it.  Your  own  good  sense  will,  I  am  sure, 
not  allow  you  to  hesitate  one  moment  in  your  choice. 
God  bless  you  !  Adieu. 

P.  S.  Sir  James  Grey's  letters  not  being  yet  sent  to  me, 
as  I  thought  they  would,  I  shall  inclose  them  in  my  next, 
which  I  believe  will  get  to  Venice  as  soon  as  you. 


LETTER    LXVII 

LONDON,  April  12,  O.  S.   1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  received,  by  the  last  mail,  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Harte,  dated  Prague,  April  the  ist,  N.  S.,  for 
which  I  desire  you  will  return  him  my  thanks,  and 
assure  him  that  I  extremely  approve  of  what  he  has  done, 
and  proposes  eventually  to  do,  in  your  way  to  Turin. 
Who  would  have  thought  you  were  old  enough  to  have 
been  so  well  acquainted  with  the  heroes  of  the  Bellum 
Tricennale,  as  to  be  looking  out  for  their  great-grandsons 
in  Bohemia,  with  that  affection  with  which,  I  am  informed, 
you  seek  for  the  Wallsteins,  the  Kinskis,  etc.  As  I  can- 
not ascribe  it  to  your  age,  I  must  to  your  consummate 
knowledge  of  history,  that  makes  every  country,  and  every 
century,  as  it  were,  your  own.  Seriously,  I  am  told,  that 
you  are  both  very  strong  and  very  correct  in  history ;  of 
which  I  am  extremely  glad.  This  is  useful  knowledge. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  169 

Comte  du  Perron  and  Comte  Lascaris  are  arrived  here: 
the  former  gave  me  a  letter  from  Sir  Charles  Williams,  the 
latter  brought  me  your  orders.  They  are  very  pretty  men, 
and  have  both  knowledge  and  manners ;  which,  though  they 
always  ought,  seldom  go  together.  I  examined  them,  par- 
ticularly Comte  Lascaris,  concerning  you ;  their  report  is  a 
very  favorable  one,  especially  on  the  side  of  knowledge ; 
the  quickness  of  conception  which  they  allow  you  I  can 
easily  credit ;  but  the  attention  which  they  add  to  it 
pleases  me  the  more,  as  I  own  I  expected  it  less.  Go  on 
in  the  pursuit  and  the  increase  of  knowledge  ;  nay,  I  am 
sure  you  will,  for  you  now  know  too  much  to  stop ;  and, 
if  Mr.  Harte  would  let  you  be  idle,  I  am  convinced  you 
would  not.  But  now  that  you  have  left  Leipsig,  and  are 
entered  into  the  great  world,  remember  there  is  another 
object  that  must  keep  pace  with,  and  accompany  knowl- 
edge ;  I  mean  manners,  politeness,  and  the  Graces ;  in 
which  Sir  Charles  Williams,  though  very  much  your  friend, 
owns  that  you  are  very  deficient.  The  manners  of  Leipsig 
must  be  shook  off ;  and  in  that  respect  you  must  put  on 
the  new  man.  No  scrambling  at  your  meals,  as  at  a  Ger- 
man ordinary ;  no  awkward  overturns  of  glasses,  plates,  and 
salt-cellars;  no  horse  play.  On  the  contrary,  a  gentleness 
of  manners,  a  graceful  carriage,  and  an  insinuating  address, 
must  take  their  place.  I  repeat,  and  shall  never  cease 
repeating  to  you,  THE  GRACES,  THE  GRACES. 

I  desire  that  as  soon  as  ever  you  get  to  Turin  you  will 
apply  yourself  diligently  to  the  Italian  language ;  that  before 
you  leave  that  place,  you  may  know  it  well  enough  to  be 
able  to  speak  tolerably  when  you  get  to  Rome ;  where  you 
will  soon  make  yourself  perfectly  master  of  Italian,  from 
the  daily  necessity  you  will  be  under  of  speaking  it.  In  the 
mean  time,  I  insist  upon  your  not  neglecting,  much  less 
forgetting,  the  German  you  already  know ;  which  you  may 
not  only  continue  but  improve,  by  speaking  it  constantly 
to  your  Saxon  boy,  and  as  often  as  you  can  to  the  several 
Germans  you  will  meet  in  your  travels.  You  remember,  no 
doubt,  that  you  must  never  write  to  me  from  Turin,  but  in 
the  German  language  and  character. 

I  send  you  the  inclosed  letter  of  recommendation  to  Mr. 
Smith  the  King's  Consul  at  Venice ;  who  can,  and  I  dare 


i;o  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

say  will,  be  more  useful  to  you  there  than  anybody.  Pray 
make  your  court,  and  behave  your  best,  to  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Capello,  who  will  be  of  great  use  to  you  at  Rome. 
Adieu!  Yours  tenderly. 


LETTER    LXVIII 

LONDON,  April  19,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  This  letter  will,  I  believe,  still  find  you  at 
Venice  in  all  the  dissipation  of  masquerades,  ridottos, 
operas,  etc.  With  all  my  heart ;  they  are  decent 
evening's  amusements,  and  very  properly  succeed  that  seri- 
ous application  to  which  I  am  sure  you  devote  your  morn- 
ings. There  are  liberal  and  illiberal  pleasures  as  well  as 
liberal  and  illiberal  arts.  There  are  some  pleasures  that 
degrade  a  gentleman  as  much  as  some  trades  could  do. 
Sottish  drinking,  indiscriminate  gluttony,  driving  coaches, 
rustic  sports,  such  as  fox-chases,  horse-races,  etc.,  are  in 
my  opinion  infinitely  below  the  honest  and  industrious 
profession  of  a  tailor  and  a  shoemaker,  which  are  said  to 
dtroger. 

As  you  are  now  in  a  musical  country,  where  singing,  fid- 
dling, and  piping,  are  not  only  the  common  topics  of  conversa- 
tion, but  almost  the  principal  objects  of  attention,  I  cannot  help 
cautioning  you  against  giving  in  to  those  (I  will  call  them 
illiberal)  pleasures  (though  music  is  commonly  reckoned 
one  of  the  liberal  arts)  to  the  degree  that  most  of  your 
countrymen  do,  when  they  travel  in  Italy.  If  you  love 
music,  hear  it;  go  to  operas,  concerts,  and  pay  fiddlers  to 
play  to  you ;  but  I  insist  upon  your  neither  piping  nor 
fiddling  yourself.  It  puts  a  gentleman  in  a  very  frivolous, 
contemptible  light;  brings  him  into  a  great  deal  of  bad 
company;  and  takes  up  a  great  deal  of  time,  which  might 
be  much  better  employed.  Few  things  would  mortify  me 
more,  than  to  see  you  bearing  a  part  in  a  concert,  with  a 
fiddle  under  your  chin,  or  a  pipe  in  your  mouth. 

I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  conversation  with  Comte  du 
Perron  and  Comte  Lascaris  upon  your  subject :  and  I  will 
tell  you,  very  truly,  what  Comte  du  Perron  (who  is,  in  my 


LETTERS   TO    HIS    SON  171 

opinion,  a  very  pretty  man)  said  of  you:  II  a  de  F esprit, 
un  savoir  peu  commun  d  son  age,  une  grande  vivacite",  et 
quand  il  aura  pris  des  manures  il  sera  parfait;  car  il 
faut  avouer  qu'il  sent  encore  le  college;  mats  cela  viendra. 
I  was  very  glad  to  hear,  from  one  whom  I  think  so  good 
a  judge,  that  you  wanted  nothing  but  des  manures,  which 
I  am  convinced  you  will  now  soon  acquire,  in  the  company 
which  henceforward  you  are  likely  to  keep.  But  I  must 
add,  too,  that  if  you  should  not  acquire  them,  all  the  rest 
will  be  of  little  use  to  you.  By  manures,  I  do  not  mean 
bare  common  civility ;  everybody  must  have  that  who  would 
not  be  kicked  out  of  company ;  but  I  mean  engaging,  in- 
sinuating, shining  manners ;  distinguished  politeness,  an 
almost  irresistible  address ;  a  superior  gracefulness  in  all 
you  say  and  do.  It  is  this  alone  that  can  give  all  your 
other  talents  their  full  lustre  and  value ;  and,  consequently, 
it  is  this  which  should  now  be  the  principal  object  of  your 
attention.  Observe  minutely,  wherever  you  go,  the  allowed 
and  established  models  of  good-breeding,  and  form  yourself 
upon  them.  Whatever  pleases  you  most  in  others,  will  in- 
fallibly please  others  in  you.  I  have  often  repeated  this  to 
you;  now  is  your  time  of  putting  it  in  practice. 

Pray  make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte,  and  tell  him 
I  have  received  his  letter  from  Vienna  of  the  i6th  N.  S., 
but  that  I  shall  not  trouble  him  with  an  answer  to  it  till 
I  have  received  the  other  letter  which  he  promises  me,  upon 
the  subject  of  one  of  my  last.  I  long  to  hear  from  him 
after  your  settlement  at  Turin :  the  months  that  you  are  to 
pass  there  will  be  very  decisive  ones  for  you.  The  exercises 
of  the  Academy,  and  the  manners  of  courts  must  be  at- 
tended to  and  acquired ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  your  other 
studies  continued.  I  am  sure  you  will  not  pass,  nor  desire, 
one  single  idle  hour  there :  for  I  do  not  foresee  that  you 
can,  in  any  part  of  your  life,  put  out  six  months  to  greater 
interest,  than  those  next  six  at  Turin. 

We  will  talk  hereafter  about  your  stay  at  Rome  and  in 
other  parts  of  Italy.  This  only  I  will  now  recommend  to 
you ;  which  is,  to  extract  the  spirit  of  every  place  you  go 
to.  In  those  places  which  are  only  distinguished  by  clas- 
sical fame,  and  valuable  remains  of  antiquity,  have  your 
classics  in  your  hand  and  in  your  head;  compare  the  ancient 


i?2  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

geography  and  descriptions  with  the  modern,  and  never 
fail  to  take  notes.  Rome  will  furnish  you  with  business 
enough  of  that  sort;  but  then  it  furnishes  you  with  many 
other  objects  well  deserving  your  attention,  such  as  deep 
ecclesiastical  craft  and  policy.  Adieu. 


LETTER     LXIX 

LONDON,  April  27,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  have  received  your  letter  from  Vienna,  of 
the  i  pth  N.  S.,  which  gives  me  great  uneasiness 
upon  Mr.  Harte's  account.  You  and  I  have  reason 
to  interest  ourselves  very  particularly  in  everything  that  re- 
lates to  him.  I  am  glad,  however,  that  no  bone  is  broken 
or  dislocated;  which  being  the  case,  I  hope  he  will  have 
been  able  to  pursue  his  journey  to  Venice.  In  that  sup- 
position I  direct  this  letter  to  you  at  Turin ;  where  it  will 
either  find,  or  at  least  not  wait  very  long  for  you,  as  I 
calculate  that  you  will  be  there  by  the  end  of  next  month, 
N.  S.  I  hope  you  reflect  how  much  you  have  to  do  there, 
and  that  you  are  determined  to  employ  every  moment  of 
your  time  accordingly.  You  have  your  classical  and  severer 
studies  to  continue  with  Mr.  Harte;  you  have  your  exercises 
to  learn;  the  turn  and  manners  of  a  court  to  acquire;  re- 
serving always  some  time  for  the  decent  amusements  and 
pleasures  of  a  gentleman.  You  see  I  am  never  against 
pleasures;  I  loved  them  myself  when  I  was  of  your  age, 
and  it  is  as  reasonable  that  you  should  love  them  now. 
But  I  insist  upon  it  that  pleasures  are  very  combinable 
with  both  business  and  studies,  and  have  a  much  better 
relish  from  the  mixture.  The  man  who  cannot  join  business 
and  pleasure  is  either  a  formal  coxcomb  in  the  one,  or  a 
sensual  beast  in  the  other.  Your  evenings  I  therefore  allot 
for  company,  assemblies,  balls,  and  such  sort  of  amusements, 
as  I  look  upon  those  to  be  the  best  schools  for  the  manners 
of  a  gentleman;  which  nothing  can  give  but  use,  observa- 
tion, and  experience.  You  have,  besides,  Italian  to  learn, 
to  which  I  desire  you  will  diligently  apply;  for  though 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  173 

French  is,  I  believe,  the  language  of  the  court  at  Turin,  yet 
Italian  will  be  very  necessary  for  you  at  Rome,  and  in 
other  parts  of  Italy;  and  if  you  are  well  grounded  in  it 
while  you  are  at  Turin  (as  you  easily  may,  for  it  is  a  very 
easy  language),  your  subsequent  stay  at  Rome  will  make 
you  perfect  in  it.  I  would  also  have  you  acquire  a  general 
notion  of  fortification;  I  mean  so  far  as  not  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  terms,  which  you  will  often  hear  mentioned  in  company, 
such  as  ravelin,  bastion,  glacis,  contrescarpe,  etc.  In  order 
to  this,  I  do  not  propose  that  you  should  make  a  study  of 
fortification,  as  if  you  were  to  be  an  engineer,  but  a  very 
easy  way  of  knowing  as  much  as  you  need  know  of  them, 
will  be  to  visit  often  the  fortifications  of  Turin,  in  com- 
pany with  some  old  officer  or  engineer,  who  will  show  and 
explain  to  you  the  several  works  themselves;  by  which 
means  you  will  get  a  clearer  notion  of  them  than  if  you 
were  to  see  them  only  upon  paper  for  seven  years  together. 
Go  to  originals  whenever  you  can,  and  trust  to  copies  and 
descriptions  as  little  as  possible.  At  your  idle  hours,  while 
you  are  at  Turin,  pray  read  the  history  of  the  House  of 
Savoy,  which  has  produced  a  great  many  very  great  men. 
The  late  king,  Victor  Amed6e,  was  undoubtedly  one,  and 
the  present  king  is,  in  my  opinion,  another.  In  general,  I 
believe  that  little  princes  are  more  likely  to  be  great  men 
than  those  whose  more  extensive  dominions  and  superior 
strength  flatter  them  with  a  security,  which  commonly  pro- 
duces negligence  and  indolence.  A  little  prince,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  great  ones,  must  be  alert  and  look  out 
sharp,  if  he  would  secure  his  own  dominions:  much  more 
still  if  he  would  enlarge  them.  He  must  watch  for  con- 
junctures or  endeavor  to  make  them.  No  princes  have  ever 
possessed  this  art  better  than  those  of  the  House  of 
Savoy;  who  have  enlarged  their  dominions  prodigiously 
within  a  century  by  profiting  of  conjunctures. 

I  send  you  here  inclosed  a  letter  from  Comte  Lascaris, 
who  is  a  warm  friend  of  yours :  I  desire  that  you  will 
answer  it  very  soon  and  cordially,  and  remember  to  make 
your  compliments  in  it  to  Comte  du  Perron.  A  young 
man  should  never  be  wanting  in  those  attentions ;  they  cost 
little  and  bring  in  a  great  deal,  by  getting  you  people's  good 
word  and  affection.  They  gain  the  heart,  to  which  I  have 


174  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

always  advised  you  to  apply  yourself  particularly  ;  it  guides 
ten  thousand  for  one  that  reason  influences. 

I  cannot  end  this  letter  or  (I  believe)  any  other,  without 
repeating  my  recommendation  of  THE  GRACES.  They  are 
to  be  met  with  at  Turin  :  for  God's  sake,  sacrifice  to  them, 
and  they  will  be  propitious.  People  mistake  grossly,  to 
imagine  that  the  least  awkwardness,  either  in  matter  or 
manner,  mind  or  body,  is  an  indifferent  thing  and  not 
worthy  of  attention.  It  may  possibly  be  a  weakness  in  me, 
but  in  short  we  are  all  so  made :  I  confess  to  you  fairly, 
that  when  you  shall  come  home  and  that  I  first  see  you, 
if  I  find  you  ungraceful  in  your  address,  and  awkward  in 
your  person  and  dress,  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  love 
you  half  so  well  as  I  should  otherwise  do,  let  your  intrinsic 
merit  and  knowledge  be  ever  so  great.  If  that  would  be 
your  case  with  me,  as  it  really  would,  judge  how  much 
worse  it  might  be  with  others,  who  have  not  the  same  affec- 
tion and  partiality  for  you,  and  to  whose  hearts  you  must 
make  your  own  way. 

Remember  to  write  to  me  constantly  while  you  are  in 
Italy,  in  the  German  language  and  character,  till  you  can 
write  to  me  in  Italian  ;  which  will  not  be  till  you  have 
been  some  time  at  Rome. 

Adieu,  my  dear  boy :  may  you  turn  out  what  Mr.  Harte 
and  I  wish  you.  I  must  add  that  if  you  do  not,  it  will 
be  both  your  own  fault  and  your  own  misfortune. 


LETTER    LXX 

LONDON,  May  15,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  This  letter  will,  I  hope,  find  you  settled  to 
your  serious  studies,   and  your    necessary  exercises  at 
Turin,  after  the  hurry  and  the  dissipation  of  the  Carni- 
val at  Venice.     I  mean  that  your  stay  at  Turin  should,  and  I 
flatter    myself   that   it    will,    be    an    useful    and   ornamental 
period  of  your  education ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  must  tell 
you,  that  all  my    affection  for  you  has  never  yet    given  me 
go   much    anxiety,    as  that  which    I    now  feel.     While  you 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  175 

are  in  danger,  I  shall  be  in  fear;  and  you  are  in  danger 
at  Turin.  Mr.  Harte  will  by  his  care  arm  you  as  well 
as  he  can  against  it ;  but  your  own  good  sense  and  resolution 
can  alone  make  you  invulnerable.  I  am  informed,  there  are 
now  many  English  at  the  Academy  at  Turin  ;  and  I  fear 
those  are  just  so  many  dangers  for  you  to  encounter.  Who 
they  are,  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  well  know  the  general  ill 
conduct,  the  indecent  behavior,  and  the  illiberal  views,  of 
my  young  countrymen  abroad ;  especially  wherever  they 
are  in  numbers  together.  Ill  example  is  of  itself  dangerous 
enough ;  but  those  who  give  it  seldom  stop  there ;  they 
add  their  infamous  exhortations  and  invitations ;  and,  if  they 
fail,  they  have  recourse  to  ridicule,  which  is  harder  for  one 
of  your  age  and  inexperience  to  withstand  than  either  of 
the  former.  Be  upon  your  guard,  therefore,  against  these 
batteries,  which  will  all  be  played  upon  you.  You  are  not 
sent  abroad  to  converse  with  your  own  countrymen  :  among 
them,  in  general,  you  will  get  little  knowledge,  no  lan- 
guages, and,  I  am  sure,  no  manners.  I  desire  that  you  will 
form  no  connections,  nor  (what  they  impudently  call) 
friendships  with  these  people;  which  are,  in  truth,  only 
combinations  and  conspiracies  against  good  morals  and  good 
manners.  There  is  commonly,  in  young  people,  a  facility 
that  makes  them  unwilling  to  refuse  anything  that  is  asked 
of  them ;  a  mauvaise  honte  that  makes  them  ashamed  to 
refuse ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  an  ambition  of  pleasing  and 
shining  in  the  company  they  keep :  these  several  causes 
produce  the  best  effect  in  good  company,  but  the  very  worst 
in  bad,  If  people  had  no  vices  but  their  own,  few  would 
have  so  many  as  they  have.  For  my  own  part,  I  would 
sooner  wear  other  people's  clothes  than  their  vices ;  and 
they  would  sit  upon  me  just  as  well.  I  hope  you  will  have 
none ;  but  if  ever  you  have,  I  beg,  at  least,  they  may  be 
all  your  own.  Vices  of  adoption  are,  of  all  others,  the 
most  disgraceful  and  unpardonable.  There  are  degrees  in 
vices,  as  well  as  in  virtues ;  and  1  must  do  my  countrymen 
the  justice  to  say,  that  they  generally  take  their  vices  in 
the  lower  degree.  Their  gallantry  is  the  infamous  mean 
debauchery  of  stews,  justly  attended  and  rewarded  by  the 
loss  of  their  health,  as  well  as  their  character.  Their 
pleasures  of  the  table  end  in  beastly  drunkenness,  low  riot, 


176  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

broken  windows,  and  very  often  (as  they  well  deserve) 
broken  bones.  They  game  for  the  sake  of  the  vice,  not  of 
the  amusement ;  and  therefore  carry  it  to  excess ;  undo,  or 
are  undone  by  their  companions.  By  such  conduct,  and  in 
such  company  abroad,  they  come  home,  the  unimproved, 
illiberal,  and  ungentlemanlike  creatures  that  one  daily  sees 
them,  that  is,  in  the  park  and  in  the  streets,  for  one  never 
meets  them  in  good  company ;  where  they  have  neither 
manners  to  present  themselves,  nor  merit  to  be.  received. 
But,  with  the  manners  of  footmen  and  grooms,  they  assume 
their  dress  too ;  for  you  must  have  observed  them  in  the 
streets  here,  in  dirty  blue  frocks,  with  oaken  sticks  in  their 
hands,  and  their  hair  greasy  and  unpowdered,  tucked  up 
under  their  hats  of  an  enormous  size.  Thus  finished  and 
adorned  by  their  travels,  they  become  the  disturbers  of 
play-houses ;  they  break  the  windows,  and  commonly  the 
landlords,  of  the  taverns  where  they  drink ;  and  are  at  once 
the  support,  the  terror,  and  the  victims,  of  the  bawdy- 
houses  they  frequent.  These  poor  mistaken  people  think 
they  shine,  and  so  they  do  indeed ;  but  it  is  as  putrefaction 
shines  in  the  dark. 

I  am  not  now  preaching  to  you,  like  an  old  fellow,  upon 
either  religious  or  moral  texts ;  I  am  persuaded  that  you  do 
not  want  the  best  instructions  of  that  kind  :  but  I  am  ad- 
vising you  as  a  friend,  as  a  man  of  the  world,  as  one  who 
would  not  have  you  old  while  you  are  young,  but  would 
have  you  to  take  all  the  pleasures  that  reason  points  out, 
and  that  decency  warrants.  I  will  therefore  suppose,  for 
argument's  sake  ( for  upon  no  other  account  can  it  be 
supposed),  that  all  the  vices  above  mentioned  were  perfectly 
innocent  in  themselves:  they  would  still  degrade,  vilify,  and 
sink  those  who  practiced  them ;  would  obstruct  their  rising 
in  the  world  by  debasing  their  characters;  and  give  them 
a  low  turn  of  mind,  and  manners  absolutely  inconsistent 
with  their  making  any  figure  in  upper  life  and  great 
business. 

What  I  have  now  said,  together  with  your  own  good 
sense,  is,  I  hope,  sufficient  to  arm  you  against  the  seduction, 
the  invitations,  or  the  profligate  exhortations  (for  I  cannot 
call  them  temptations)  of  those  unfortunate  young  people. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  they  would  engage  you  in  these 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  177 

schemes,  content  yourself  with  a  decent  but  steady  refusal ; 
avoid  controversy  upon  such  plain  points.  You  are  too 
young  to  convert  them ;  and,  I  trust,  too  wise  to  be  con- 
verted by  them.  Shun  them  not  only  in  reality,  but  even 
in  appearance,  if  you  would  be  well  received  in  good  com- 
pany ;  for  people  will  always  be  shy  of  receiving  a  man 
who  comes  from  a  place  where  the  plague  rages,  let  him 
look  ever  so  healthy.  There  are  some  expressions,  both  in 
French  and  English,  and  some  characters,  both  in  those 
two  and  in  other  countries,  which  have,  I  dare  say,  misled 
many  young  men  to  their  ruin.  Une  honnete  d&auche,  une 
jolie  dtbauche;  <(  An  agreeable  rake,  a  man  of  pleasure.*  Do 
not  think  that  this  means  debauchery  and  profligacy; 
nothing  like  it.  It  means,  at  most,  the  accidental  and 
unfrequent  irregularities  of  youth  and  vivacity,  in  opposi- 
tion to  dullness,  formality,  and  want  of  spirit.  A  commerce 
galant,  insensibly  formed  with  a  woman  of  fashion;  a  glass 
of  wine  or  two  too  much,  unwarily  taken  in  the  warmth 
and  joy  of  good  company ;  or  some  innocent  frolic,  by 
which  nobody  is  injured,  are  the  utmost  bounds  of  that 
life  of  pleasure,  which  a  man  of  sense  and  decency,  who 
has  a  regard  for  his  character,  will  allow  himself,  or  be 
allowed  by  others.  Those  who  transgress  them  in  the  hopes 
of  shining,  miss  their  aim,  and  become  infamous,  or  at 
least,  contemptible. 

The  length  or  shortness  of  your  stay  at  Turin  will  suf- 
ficiently inform  me  (even  though  Mr.  Harte  should  not)  of 
your  conduct  there ;  for,  as  I  have  told  you  before,  Mr. 
Harte  has  the  strictest  orders  to  carry  you  away  immediately 
from  thence,  upon  the  first  and  least  symptom  of  infection 
that  he  discovers  about  you ;  and  I  know  him  to  be  too 
conscientiously  scrupulous,  and  too  much  your  friend  and 
mine  not  to  execute  them  exactly.  Moreover,  I  will  inform 
you,  that  I  shall  have  constant  accounts  of  your  behavior 
from  Comte  Salmour,  the  Governor  of  the  Academy,  whose 
son  is  now  here,  and  my  particular  friend.  I  have,  also, 
other  good  channels  of  intelligence,  of  which  I  do  not 
apprise  you.  But,  supposing  that  all  turns  out  well  at 
Turin,  yet,  as  I  propose  your  being  at  Rome  for  the 
Jubilee,  at  Christmas,  I  desire  that  you  will  apply  yourself 
diligently  to  your  exercises  of  dancing,  fencing,  and  riding 

12 


i;8  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

at  the  Academy;  as  well  for  the  sake  of  your  health  and 
growth,  as  to  fashion  and  supple  you.  You  must  not 
neglect  your  dress  neither,  but  take  care  to  be  bien  mis. 
Pray  send  for  the  best  operator  for  the  teeth  at  Turin, 
where  I  suppose  there  is  some  famous  one ;  and  let  him 
put  yours  in  perfect  order;  and  then  take  care  to  keep 
them  so,  afterward,  yourself.  You  had  very  good  teeth, 
and  I  hope  they  are  so  still ;  but  even  those  who  have  bad 
ones,  should  keep  them  clean;  for  a  dirty  mouth  is,  in  my 
mind,  ill  manners.  In  short,  neglect  nothing  that  can 
possibly  please.  A  thousand  nameless  little  things,  which 
nobody  can  describe,  but  which  everybody  feels,  conspire  to 
form  that  WHOLE  of  pleasing ;  as  the  several  pieces  of  a 
Mosaic  work  though,  separately,  of  little  beauty  or  value, 
when  properly  joined,  form  those  beautiful  figures  which 
please  everybody.  A  look,  a  gesture,  an  attitude,  a  tone  of 
voice,  all  bear  their  parts  in  the  great  work  of  pleasing. 
The  art  of  pleasing  is  more  particularly  necessary  in  your 
intended  profession  than  perhaps  in  any  other ;  it  is,  in 
truth,  the  first  half  of  your  business ;  for  if  you  do  not 
please  the  court  you  are  sent  to,  you  will  be  of  very  little 
use  to  the  court  you  are  sent  from.  Please  the  eyes  and 
the  ears,  they  will  introduce  you  to  the  heart;  and  nine 
times  in  ten,  the  heart  governs  the  understanding. 

Make  your  court  particularly,  and  show  distinguished 
attentions  to  such  men  and  women  as  are  best  at  court, 
highest  in  the  fashion,  and  in  the  opinion  of  the  public ; 
speak  advantageously  of  them  behind  their  backs,  in  com- 
panies whom  you  have  reason  to  believe  will  tell  them 
again.  Express  your  admiration  of  the  many  great  men 
that  the  House  of  Savoy  has  produced ;  observe  that  nature, 
instead  of  being  exhausted  by  those  efforts,  seems  to  have 
redoubled  them,  in  the  person  of  the  present  King,  and  the 
Duke  of  Savoy;  wonder,  at  this  rate,  where  it  will  end, 
and  conclude  that  it  must  end  in  the  government  of  all 
Europe.  Say  this,  likewise,  where  it  will  probably  be 
repeated;  but  say  it  unaffectedly,  and,  the  last  especially, 
with  a  kind  of  enjouement.  These  little  arts  are  very 
allowable,  and  must  be  made  use  of  in  the  course  of  the 
world;  they  are  pleasing  to  one  party,  useful  to  the  other, 
and  injurious  to  nobody. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  179 

What  I  have  said  with  regard  to  my  countrymen  in 
general,  does  not  extend  to  them  all  without  exception ; 
there  are  some  who  have  both  merit  and  manners.  Your 
friend,  Mr.  Stevens,  is  among  the  latter;  and  I  approve  of 
your  connection  with  him.  You  may  happen  to  meet  with 
some  others,  whose  friendship  may  be  of  great  use  to  you 
hereafter,  either  from  their  superior  talents,  or  their  rank 
and  fortune;  cultivate  them;  but  then  I  desire  that  Mr. 
Harte  may  be  the  judge  of  those  persons. 

Adieu,  my  dear  child!  Consider  seriously  the  importance 
of  the  two  next  years  to  your  character,  your  figure,  and 
your  fortune. 


LETTER     LXXI 

LONDON,  May  22,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  recommended  to  you,  in  my  last,  an  inno- 
cent piece  of  art;  that  of  flattering  people  behind 
their  backs,  in  presence  of  those  who,  to  make  their 
own  court,  much  more  than  for  your  sake,  will  not  fail  to 
repeat  and  even  amplify  the  praise  to  the  party  concerned. 
This  is,  of  all  flattery,  the  most  pleasing,  and  consequently 
the  most  effectual.  There  are  other,  and  many  other,  in- 
offensive arts  of  this  kind,  which  are  necessary  in  the  course 
of  the  world,  and  which  he  who  practices  the  earliest,  will 
please  the  most,  and  rise  the  soonest.  The  spirits  and 
vivacity  of  youth  are  apt  to  neglect  them  as  useless,  or  re- 
ject them  as  troublesome.  But  subsequent  knowledge  and 
experience  of  the  world  reminds  us  of  their  importance, 
commonly  when  it  is  too  late.  The  principal  of  these 
things  is  the  mastery  of  one's  temper,  and  that  coolness  of 
mind,  and  serenity  of  countenance,  which  hinders  us  from 
discovering  by  words,  actions,  or  even  looks,  those  passions 
or  sentiments  by  which  we  are  inwardly  moved  or  agitated; 
and  the  discovery  of  which  gives  cooler  and  abler  people 
such  infinite  advantages  over  us,  not  only  in  great  business, 
but  in  all  the  most  common  occurrences  of  life.  A  man 
who  does  not  possess  himself  enough  to  hear  disagreeable 
things  without  visible  marks  of  anger  and  change  of 


i8o  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

countenance,  or  agreeable  ones,  without  sudden  bursts  of  joy 
and  expansion  of  countenance,  is  at  the  mercy  of  every  art- 
ful knave  or  pert  coxcomb ;  the  former  will  provoke  or 
please  you  by  design,  to  catch  unguarded  words  or  looks 
by  which  he  will  easily  decipher  the  secrets  of  your  heart, 
of  which  you  should  keep  the  key  yourself,  and  trust  it 
with  no  man  living.  The  latter  will,  by  his  absurdity,  and 
without  intending  it,  produce  the  same  discoveries  of  which 
other  people  will  avail  themselves.  You  will  say,  possibly, 
that  this  coolness  must  be  constitutional,  and  consequently 
does  not  depend  upon  the  will:  and  I  will  allow  that  con- 
stitution has  some  power  over  us ;  but  I  will  maintain,  too, 
that  people  very  often,  to  excuse  themselves,  very  unjustly 
accuse  their  constitutions.  Care  and  reflection,  if  properly 
used,  will  get  the  better :  and  a  man  may  as  surely  get  a 
habit  of  letting  his  reason  prevail  over  his  constitution,  as 
of  letting,  as  most  people  do,  the  latter  prevail  over  the 
former.  If  you  find  yourself  subject  to  sudden  starts  of 
passion  or  madness  (  for  I  see  no  difference  between  them 
but  in  their  duration),  resolve  within  yourself,  at  least, 
never  to  speak  one  word  while  you  feel  that  emotion 
within  you.  Determine,  too,  to  keep  your  countenance  as 
unmoved  and  unembarrassed  as  possible ;  which  steadiness 
you  may  get  a  habit  of,  by  constant  attention.  I  should 
desire  nothing  better,  in  any  negotiation,  than  to  have  to 
do  with  one  of  those  men  of  warm,  quick  passions ;  which 
I  would  take  care  to  set  in  motion.  By  artful  provoca- 
tions I  would  extort  rash  unguarded  expressions ;  and,  by 
hinting  at  all  the  several  things  that  I  could  suspect,  in- 
fallibly discover  the  true  one,  by  the  alteration  it  occasioned 
in  the  countenance  of  the  person.  Volto  sciolto  con  pensieri 
stretti)  is  a  most  useful  maxim  in  business.  It  is  so  neces- 
sary at  some  games,  such  as  Berlan  £>uinze,  etc.,  that  a 
man  who  had  not  the  command  of  his  temper  and  counte- 
nance, would  infallibly  be  outdone  by  those  who  had,  even 
though  they  played  fair.  Whereas,  in  business,  you  always 
play  with  sharpers ;  to  whom,  at  least,  you  should  give  no 
fair  advantages.  It  may  be  objected,  that  I  am  now  recom- 
mending dissimulation  to  you ;  I  both  own  and  justify  it. 
It  has  been  long  said,  Qui  nescit  dissimulare  nescit  regnare: 
I  go  still  further,  and  say,  that  without  some  dissimulation 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  181 

no  business  can  be  carried  on  at  all.  It  is  SIMULATION  that  is 
false,  mean,  and  criminal:  that  is  the  cunning  which  Lord 
Bacon  calls  crooked  or  left-handed  wisdom,  and  which  is 
never  made  use  of  but  by  those  who  have  not  true  wisdom. 
And  the  same  great  man  says,  that  dissimulation  is  only  to 
hide  our  own  cards,  whereas  simulation  is  put  on,  in  order 
to  look  into  other  people's.  Lord  Bolingbroke,  in  his  tt  Idea 
of  a  Patriot  King,*  which  he  has  lately  published,  and 
which  I  will  send  you  by  the  first  opportunity,  says  very 
justly  that  simulation  is  a  STILETTO, — not  only  an  unjust 
but  an  unlawful  weapon,  and  the  use  of  it  very  rarely  to 
be  excused,  never  justified.  Whereas  dissimulation  is  a 
shield,  as  secrecy  is  armor;  and  it  is  no  more  possible  to 
preserve  secrecy  in  business,  without  some  degree  of  dis- 
simulation, than  it  is  to  succeed  in  business  without  secrecy. 
He  goes  on,  and  says,  that  those  two  arts  of  dissimulation 
and  secrecy  are  like  the  alloy  mingled  with  pure  ore:  a 
little  is  necessary,  and  will  not  debase  the  coin  below  its 
proper  standard;  but  if  more  than  that  little  be  employed 
(that  is,  simulation  and  cunning),  the  coin  loses  its  currency, 
and  the  coiner  his  credit. 

Make  yourself  absolute  master,  therefore,  of  your  temper 
and  your  countenance,  so  far,  at  least,  as  that  no  visible 
change  do  appear  in  either,  whatever  you  may  feel  in- 
wardly. This  may  be  difficult,  but  it  is  by  no  means  im- 
possible ;  and,  as  a  man  of  sense  never  attempts  impossibilities 
on  one  hand,  on  the  other,  he  is  never  discouraged  by  diffi- 
culties: on  the  contrary,  he  redoubles  his  industry  and  his 
diligence;  he  perseveres,  and  infallibly  prevails  at  last.  In 
any  point  which  prudence  bids  you  pursue,  and  which  a 
manifest  utility  attends,  let  difficulties  only  animate  your 
industry,  not  deter  you  from  the  pursuit.  If  one  way  has 
failed,  try  another;  be  active,  persevere,  and  you  will  con- 
quer. Some  people  are  to  be  reasoned,  some  flattered,  some 
intimidated,  and  some  teased  into  a  thing;  but,  in  general, 
all  are  to  be  brought  into  it  at  last,  if  skillfully  applied  to, 
properly  managed,  and  indefatigably  attacked  in  their  several 
weak  places.  The  time  should  likewise  be  judiciously  chosen  ; 
every  man  has  his  mollia  tempora,  but  that  is  far  from  being 
all  day  long;  and  you  would  choose  your  time  very  ill,  if  you 
applied  to  a  man  about  one  business,  when  his  head  was 


1 82  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

full  of  another,  or  when  his  heart  was  full  of  grief,  anger, 
or  any  other  disagreeable  sentiment. 

In  order  to  judge  of  the  inside  of  others,  study  your  own ; 
for  men  in  general  are  very  much  alike ;  and  though  one 
has  one  prevailing  passion,  and  another  has  another,  yet 
their  operations  are  much  the  same ;  and  whatever  engages 
or  disgusts,  pleases  or  offends  you,  in  others  will,  mutatis 
mutandis,  engage,  disgust,  please,  or  offend  others,  in  you. 
Observe  with  the  utmost  attention  all  the  operations  of 
your  own  mind,  the  nature  of  your  passions,  and  the  vari- 
ous motives  that  determine  your  will ;  and  you  may,  in  a 
great  degree,  know  all  mankind.  For  instance,  do  you  find 
yourself  hurt  and  mortified  when  another  makes  you  feel 
his  superiority,  and  your  own  inferiority,  in  knowledge, 
parts,  rank,  or  fortune?  You  will  certainly  take  great  care 
not  to  make  a  person  whose  good  will,  good  word,  inter- 
est, esteem,  or  friendship,  you  would  gain,  feel  that  supe- 
riority in  you,  in  case  you  have  it.  If  disagreeable  insinua- 
tions, sly  sneers,  or  repeated  contradictions,  tease  and  irri- 
tate you,  would  you  use  them  where  you  wish  to  engage 
and  please?  Surely  not,  and  I  hope  you  wish  to  engage 
and  please,  almost  universally.  The  temptation  of  saying 
a  smart  and  witty  thing,  or  bon  mot;  and  the  malicious 
applause  with  which  it  is  commonly  received,  has  made 
people  who  can  say  them,  and,  still  oftener,  people  who 
think  they  can,  but  cannot,  and  yet  try,  more  enemies,  and 
implacable  ones  too,  than  any  one  other  thing  that  I  know 
of.  When  such  things,  then,  shall  happen  to  be  said  at 
your  expense  (as  sometimes  they  certainly  will),  reflect 
seriously  upon  the  sentiments  of  uneasiness,  anger,  and 
resentment  which  they  excite  in  you ;  and  consider  whether 
it  can  be  prudent,  by  the  same  means,  to  excite  the  same 
sentiments  in  others  against  you.  It  is  a  decided  folly  to 
lose  a  friend  for  a  jest ;  but,  in  my  mind,  it  is  not  a  much 
less  degree  of  folly  to  make  an  enemy  of  an  indifferent 
and  neutral  person,  for  the  sake  of  a  bon  mot.  When 
things  of  this  kind  happen  to  be  said  of  you,  the  most 
prudent  way  is  to  seem  not  to  suppose  that  they  are  meant 
at  you,  but  to  dissemble  and  conceal  whatever  degree  of 
anger  you  may  feel  inwardly;  but,  should  they  be  so  plain 
that  you  cannot  be  supposed  ignorant  of  their  meaning,  to 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  183 

join  in  the  laugh  of  the  company  against  yourself;  acknowl- 
edge the  hit  to  be  a  fair  one,  and  the  jest  a  good  one,  and 
play  off  the  whole  thing  in  seeming  good  humor ;  but  by 
no  means  reply  in  the  same  way  ;  which  only  shows  that 
you  are  hurt,  and  publishes  the  victory  which  you  might 
have  concealed.  Should  the  thing  said,  indeed  injure  your 
honor  or  moral  character,  there  is  but  one  proper  reply; 
which  I  hope  you  never  will  have  occasion  to  make. 

As  the  female  part  of  the  world  has  some  influence,  and 
often  too  much,  over  the  male,  your  conduct  with  regard 
to  women  ( I  mean  women  of  fashion,  for  I  cannot  sup- 
pose you  capable  of  conversing  with  any  others)  deserves 
some  share  in  your  reflections.  They  are  a  numerous  and 
loquacious  body :  their  hatred  would  be  more  prejudicial 
than  their  friendship  can  be  advantageous  to  you.  A  gen- 
eral complaisance  and  attention  to  that  sex  is  therefore 
established  by  custom,  and  certainly  necessary.  But  where 
you  would  particularly  please  anyone,  whose  situation, 
interest,  or  connections,  can  be  of  use  to  you,  you  must 
show  particular  preference.  The  least  attentions  please,  the 
greatest  charm  them.  The  innocent  but  pleasing  flattery  of 
their  persons,  however  gross,  is  greedily  swallowed  and 
kindly  digested  :  but  a  seeming  regard  for  their  understand- 
ings, a  seeming  desire  of,  and  deference  for,  their  advice, 
together  with  a  seeming  confidence  in  their  moral  virtues, 
turns  their  heads  entirely  in  your  favor.  Nothing  shocks 
them  so  much  as  the  least  appearance  of  that  contempt 
which  they  are  apt  to  suspect  men  of  entertaining  of  their 
capacities ;  and  you  may  be  very  sure  of  gaining  their 
friendship  if  you  seem  to  think  it  worth  gaining.  Here 
dissimulation  is  very  often  necessary,  and  even  simulation 
sometimes  allowable;  which,  as  it  pleases  them,  may  be 
useful  to  you,  and  is  injurious  to  nobody. 

This  torn  sheet,*  which  I  did  not  observe  when  I  began 
upon  it,  as  it  alters  the  figure,  shortens,  too,  the  length  of 
my  letter.  It  may  very  well  afford  it :  my  anxiety  for  you 
carries  me  insensibly  to  these  lengths.  I  am  apt  to  flatter 
myself,  that  my  -experience,  at  the  latter  end  of  my  life, 
may  be  of  use  to  you  at  the  beginning  of  yours ;  and  I  do 

*The  original  is  written  upon  a  sheet  of  paper,  the  corner  of  which 
is  torn. 


1 84  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

not  grudge  the  greatest  trouble,  if  it  can  procure  you  the 
least  advantage.  I  even  repeat  frequently  the  same  things, 
the  better  to  imprint  them  on  your  young,  and,  I  suppose, 
yet  giddy  mind;  and  I  shall  think  that  part  of  my  time 
the  best  employed,  that  contributes  to  make  you  employ 
yours  well.  God  bless  you,  child ! 


LETTER    LXXII 

LONDON,  June  16,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  do  not  guess  where  this  letter  will  find 
you,  but  I  hope  it  will  find  you  well :  I  direct  it 
eventually  to  Laubach ;  from  whence  I  suppose  you 
have  taken  care  to  have  your  letters  sent  after  you.  I 
received  no  account  from  Mr.  Harte  by  last  post,  and  the 
mail  due  this  day  is  not  yet  come  in  ;  so  that  my  infor- 
mations come  down  no  lower  than  the  2d  June,  N.  S.,  the 
date  of  Mr.  Harte' s  last  letter.  As  I  am  now  easy  about 
your  health,  I  am  only  curious  about  your  motions,  which 
I  hope  have  been  either  to  Inspruck  or  Verona  ;  for  I  dis- 
approve extremely  of  your  proposed  long  and  troublesome 
journey  to  Switzerland.  Wherever  you  may  be,  I  recom- 
mend to  you  to  get  as  much  Italian  as  you  can,  before  you 
go  either  to  Rome  or  Naples  :  a  little  will  be  of  great  use 
to  you  upon  the  road  ;  and  the  knowledge  of  the  grammat- 
ical part,  which  you  can  easily  acquire  in  two  or  three 
months,  will  not  only  facilitate  your  progress,  but  accelerate 
your  perfection  in  that  language,  when  you  go  to  those 
places  where  it  is  generally  spoken ;  as  Naples,  Rome, 
Florence,  etc. 

Should  the  state  of  your  health  not  yet  admit  of  your 
usual  application  to  books,  you  may,  in  a  great  degree,  and 
I  hope  you  will,  repair  that  loss  by  useful  and  instructive 
conversations  with  Mr.  Harte  :  you  may,  for  example,  desire 
him  to  give  you  in  conversation  the  outlines,  at  least,  of 
Mr.  Locke's  logic  ;  a  general  notion  of  ethics,  and  a  verbal 
epitome  of  rhetoric  ;  of  all  which  Mr.  Harte  will  give  you 
clearer  ideas  in  half  an  hour,  by  word  of  mouth,  than  the 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  185 

books  of  most  of  the  dull  fellows  who  have  written  upon 
those  subjects  would  do  in  a  week. 

I  have  waited  so  long  for  the  post,  which  I  hoped  would 
come,  that  the  post,  which  is  just  going  out,  obliges  me  to 
cut  this  letter  short.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  child!  and 
restore  you  soon  to  perfect  health! 

My  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte ;  to  whose  care  your  life 
is  the  least  thing  that  you  owe. 


LETTER    LXXIII 

LONDON,  June  22,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  Bov:   The  outside  of  your  letter  of  the  7th  N.S., 
directed   by  your   own  hand,  gave   me  more  pleasure 
than  the  inside  of  any  other  letter  ever  did.     I  received 
it  yesterday  at  the    same  time  with  one  from  Mr.  Harte  of 
the    6th.     They    arrived    at    a  very    proper    time,    for    they 
found  a  consultation  of  physicians  in  my  room,  upon  account 
of  a  fever  which  I  had  for  four  or  five  days,  but  which  has 
now    entirely    left    me.       As   Mr.    Harte    says   THAT    YOUR 

LUNGS  NOW  AND  THEN  GIVE  YOU  A  LITTLE  PAIN,  and  that 
YOUR  SWELLINGS  COME  AND  GO  VARIABLY,  but  as  he  men- 

tions  nothing  of  your  coughing,  spitting,  or  sweating,  the 
doctors  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  entirely  free  from 
those  three  bad  symptoms:  and  from  thence  conclude,  that 
the  pain  which  you  sometimes  feel  upon  your  lungs  is 
only  symptomatical  of  your  rheumatic  disorder,  from  the 
pressure  of  the  muscles  which  hinders  the  free  play  of  the 
lungs.  But,  however,  as  the  lungs  are  a  point  of  the  utmost 
importance  and  delicacy,  they  insist  upon  your  drinking,  in 
all  events,  asses'  milk  twice  a  day,  and  goats'  whey  as  often 
as  you  please,  the  oftener  the  better  :  in  your  common  diet, 
they  recommend  an  attention  to  pectorals,  such  as  sago, 
barley,  turnips,  etc.  These  rules  are  equally  good  in  rheumatic 
as  in  consumptive  cases;  you  will  therefore,  I  hope,  strictly 
observe  them;  for  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  above 
the  silly  likings  or  dislikings,  in  which  silly  people  indulge 
their  tastes,  at  the  expense  of  their  health. 


186  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

I  approve  of  your  going  to  Venice,  as  much  as  I  disap- 
proved of  your  going  to  Switzerland.  I  suppose  that  you 
are  by  this  time  arrived;  and,  in  that  supposition,  I  direct 
this  letter  there.  But  if  you  should  find  the  heat  too  great, 
or  the  water  offensive,  at  this  time  of  the  year,  I  would 
have  you  go  immediately  to  Verona,  and  stay  there  till  the 
great  heats  are  over,  before  you  return  to  Venice. 

The  time  which  you  will  probably  pass  at  Venice  will 
allow  you  to  make  yourself  master  of  that  intricate  and 
singular  form  of  government,  of  which  few  of  our  travelers 
know  anything.  Read,  ask,  and  see  everything  that  is 
relative  to  it.  There  are  likewise  many  valuable  remains 
of  the  remotest  antiquity,  and  many  fine  pieces  of  the 
Antico-moderno ,  all  which  deserve  a  different  sort  of 
attention  from  that  which  your  countrymen  commonly  give 
them.  They  go  to  see  them,  as  they  go  to  see  the  lions, 
and  kings  on  horseback,  at  the  Tower  here,  only  to  say 
that  they  have  seen  them.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  view  them 
in  another  light;  you  will  consider  them  as  you  would  a 
poem,  to  which  indeed  they  are  akin.  You  will  observe 
whether  the  sculptor  has  animated  his  stone,  or  the  painter 
his  canvas,  into  the  just  expression  of  those  sentiments  and 
passions  which  should  characterize  and  mark  their  several 
figures.  You  will  examine,  likewise,  whether  in  their 
groups  there  be  a  unity  of  action,  or  proper  relation ;  a 
truth  of  dress  and  manners.  Sculpture  and  painting  are 
very  justly  called  liberal  arts ;  a  lively  and  strong  imagina- 
tion, together  with  a  just  observation,  being  absolutely 
necessary  to  excel  in  either;  which,  in  my  opinion,  is  by  no 
means  the  case  of  music,  though  called  a  liberal  art,  and 
now  in  Italy  placed  even  above  the  other  two;  a  proof  of 
the  decline  of  that  country.  The  Venetian  school  produced 
many  great  painters,  such  as  Paul  Veronese,  Titian,  Palma, 
etc.,  of  whom  you  will  see,  as  well  in  private  houses  as  in 
churches,  very  fine  pieces.  The  Last  Supper,  of  Paul 
Veronese,  in  the  church  of  St.  George,  is  reckoned  his 
capital  performance,  and  deserves  your  attention ;  as  does 
also  the  famous  picture  of  the  Cornaro  Family,  by  Titian. 
A  taste  for  sculpture  and  painting  is,  in  my  mind,  as 
becoming  as  a  taste  for  fiddling  and  piping  is  unbecoming, 
a  man  of  fashion.  The  former  is  connected  with  history 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  187 

and  poetry;  the  latter,  with  nothing  that  I  know  of  but 
bad  company. 

Learn  Italian  as  fast  as  ever  you  can,  that  you  may  be 
able  to  understand  it  tolerably,  and  speak  it  a  little  before 
you  go  to  Rome  and  Naples.  There  are  many  good  historians 
in  that  language,  and  excellent  translations  of  the  ancient 
Greek  and  Latin  authors ;  which  are  called  the  Collana; 
but  the  only  two  Italian  poets  that  deserve  your  acqaintance 
are  Ariosto  and  Tasso;  and  they  undoubtedly  have  great 
merit. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte,  and  tell  him  that  I 
have  consulted  about  his  leg,  and  that  if  it  was  only  a 
sprain,  he  ought  to  keep  a  tight  bandage  about  the  part, 
for  a  considerable  time,  and  do  nothing  else  to  it.  Adieu ! 
Jubeo  te  bene  -valere. 


LETTER    LXXIV 

LONDON,  July  6,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  As  I  am  now  no  longer  in  pain  about  your 
health,  which  I  trust  is  perfectly  restored;  and  as,  by 
the  various   accounts    I  have    had  of  you,    I  need  not 
be  in  pain    about  your    learning,    our    correspondence    may, 
for  the  future,  turn  upon  less  important  points,  comparatively; 
though    still  very  important    ones:    I    mean,  the    knowledge 
of    the    world,    decorum,    manners,    address,    and    all    those 
(commonly  called  little)    accomplishments,  which    are    abso- 
lutely necessary  to    give    greater   accomplishments   thejr  full 
value  and  lustre. 

Had  I  the  admirable  ring  of  Gyges,  which  rendered  the 
wearer  invisible;  and  had  I,  at  the  same  time,  those 
magic  powers,  which  were  very  common  formerly,  but  are 
now  very  scarce,  of  transporting  myself,  by  a  wish,  to  any 
given  place,  my  first  expedition  would  be  to  Venice,  there  to 
RECONNOITRE  you,  unseen  myself.  I  would  first  take  you 
in  the  morning,  at  breakfast  with  Mr.  Harte,  and  attend 
to  your  natural  and  unguarded  conversation  with  him ;  from 
whence,  I  think,  I  could  pretty  well  judge  of  your  natural 
turn  of  mind.  How  I  should  rejoice  if  I  overheard  you 


i88  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

asking  him  pertinent  questions  upon  useful  subjects!  or 
making  judicious  reflections  upon  the  studies  of  that  morn- 
ing, or  the  occurrences  of  the  former  day!  Then  I  would 
follow  you  into  the  different  companies  of  the  day,  and 
carefully  observe  in  what  manner  you  presented  yourself 
to,  and  behaved  yourself  with,  men  of  sense  and  dignity ; 
whether  your  address  was  respectful,  and  yet  easy ;  your 
air  modest,  and  yet  unembarrassed  ;  and  I  would,  at  the  same 
time,  penetrate  into  their  thoughts,  in  order  to  know  whether 
your  first  abord  made  that  advantageous  impression  upon 
their  fancies,  which  a  certain  address,  air,  and  manners, 
never  fail  doing.  I  would  afterward  follow  you  to  the 
mixed  companies  of  the  evening;  such  as  assemblies,  sup- 
pers, etc.,  and  there  watch  if  you  trifled  gracefully  and 
genteelly :  if  your  good-breeding  and  politeness  made  way 
for  your  parts  and  knowledge.  With  what  pleasure  should 
I  hear  people  cry  out,  Che  garbato-  Cavaliere,  com"1  £  pulito, 
disinvolto,  spiritoso !  If  all  these  things  turned  out  to  my 
mind,  I  would  immediately  assume  my  own  shape,  become 
visible,  and  embrace  you  :  but  if  the  contrary  happened,  I 
would  preserve  my  invisibility,  make  the  best  of  my  way 
home  again,  and  sink  my  disappointment  upon  you  and  the 
world.  As,  unfortunately,  these  supernatural  powers  of 
genii,  fairies,  sylphs,  and  gnomes,  have  had  the  fate  of 
the  oracles  they  succeeded,  and  have  ceased  for  some  time, 
I  must  content  myself  (till  we  meet  naturally,  and  in  the 
common  way)  with  Mr.  Harte's  written  accounts  of  you, 
and  the  verbal  ones  which  I  now  and  then  receive  from 
people  who  have  seen  you.  However,  I  believe  it  would 
do  you  no  harm,  if  you  would  always  imagine  that  I  were 
present,  and  saw  and  heard  everything  you  did  and  said. 
There  is  a  certain  concurrence  of  various  little  circum- 
stances which  compose  what  the  French  call  Vaimable; 
and  which,  now  that  you  are  entering  into  the  world,  you 
ought  to  make  it  your  particular  study  to  acquire.  With- 
out them,  your  learning  will  be  pedantry,  your  conversation 
often  improper,  always  unpleasant,  and  your  figure,  how- 
ever good  in  itself,  awkward  and  unengaging.  A  diamond, 
while  rough,  has  indeed  its  intrinsic  value ;  but,  till  polished, 
is  of  no  use,  and  would  neither  be  sought  for  nor  worn. 
Its  great  lustre,  it  is  true,  proceeds  from  its  solidity  and 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  189 

strong  cohesion  of  parts;  but  without  the  last  polish,  it 
would  remain  forever  a  dirty,  rough  mineral,  in  the  cabi- 
nets of  some  few  curious  collectors.  You  have,  I  hope, 
that  solidity  and  cohesion  of  parts ;  take  now  as  much  pains 
to  get  the  lustre.  Good  company,  if  you  make  the  right 
use  of  it,  will  cut  you  into  shape,  and  give  you  the  true 
brilliant  polish.  A  propos  of  diamonds :  I  have  sent  you 
by  Sir  James  Gray,  the  King's  Minister,  who  will  be  at 
Venice  about  the  middle  of  September,  my  own  diamond 
buckles ;  which  are  fitter  for  your  young  feet  than  for  my 
old  ones :  they  will  properly  adorn  you ;  they  would  only 
expose  me.  If  Sir  James  finds  anybody  whom  he  can  trust, 
and  who  will  be  at  Venice  before  him,  he  will  send  them 
by  that  person ;  but  if  he  should  not,  and  that  you  should 
be  gone  from  Venice  before  he  gets  there,  he  will  in  that 
case  give  them  to  your  banker,  Monsieur  Cornet,  to  for- 
ward to  you,  wherever  you  may  then  be.  You  are  now 
of  an  age,  at  which  the  adorning  your  person  is  not  only 
not  ridiculous,  but  proper  and  becoming.  Negligence  would 
imply  either  an  indifference  about  pleasing,  or  else  an  in- 
solent security  of  pleasing,  without  using  those  means  to 
which  others  are  obliged  to  have  recourse.  A  thorough 
cleanliness  in  your  person  is  as  necessary  for  your  own 
health,  as  it  is  not  to  be  offensive  to  other  people.  Wash- 
ing yourself,  and  rubbing  your  body  and  limbs  frequently 
with  a  flesh-brush,  will  conduce  as  much  to  health  as  to 
cleanliness.  A  particular  attention  to  the  cleanliness  of 
your  mouth,  teeth,  hands,  and  nails,  is  but  common  decency, 
in  order  not  to  offend  people's  eyes  and  noses. 

I  send  you  here  inclosed  a  letter  of  recommendation  to 
the  Duke  of  Nivernois,  the  French  Ambassador  at  Rome ; 
who  is,  in  my  opinion,  one  of  the  prettiest  men  I  ever 
knew  in  my  life.  I  do  not  know  a  better  model  for  you 
to  form  yourself  upon ;  pray  observe  and  frequent  him  as 
much  as  you  can.  He  will  show  you  what  manners  and 
graces  are.  I  shall,  by  successive  posts,  send  you  more  let- 
ters, both  for  Rome  and  Naples,  where  it  will  be  your 
own  fault  entirely  if  you  do  not  keep  the  very  best  com- 
pany. 

As  you  will  meet  swarms  of  Germans  wherever  you  go, 
I  desire  that  you  will  constantly  converse  with  them  in 


190  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

their  own  language,  which  will  improve  you  in  that  lan- 
guage, and  be,  at  the  same  time,  an  agreeable  piece  of 
civility  to  them. 

Your  stay  in  Italy  will,  I  do  not  doubt,  make  you  critic- 
ally master  of  Italian ;  I  know  it  may,  if  you  please,  for 
it  is  a  very  regular,  and  consequently  a  very  easy  language. 
Adieu!  God  bless  you! 


LETTER     LXXV 

LONDON,  July  20,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Harte  last  Monday,  the  i7th, 
O.  S.,  in  answer  to  his  letter  of  the  2Oth  June,  N.  S., 
which    I    had  received    but  the    day  before,   after  an 
interval    of    eight    posts ;    during   which    I    did    not    know 
whether   you  or  he   existed,    and    indeed  I    began    to  think 
that  you  did  not.     By  that  letter  you  ought  at  this  time  to 
be    at    Venice ;   where    I    hope    you    are    arrived  in    perfect 
health,  after    the    baths  of  Tieffer,    in  case   you  have    made 
use  of  them.     I  hope  they  are  not  hot  baths,  if  your  lung& 
are  still  tender. 

Your  friend,  the  Comte  d'Einsiedlen,  is  arrived  here :  he 
has  been  at  my  door,  and  I  have  been  at  his  ;  but  we  have 
not  yet  met.  He  will  dine  with  me  some  day  this  week. 
Comte  Lascaris  inquires  after  you  very  frequently,  and  with 
great  affection ;  pray  answer  the  letter  which  I  forwarded 
to  you  a  great  while  ago  from  him.  You  may  inclose  your 
answer  to  me,  and  I  will  take  care  to  give  it  him.  Those 
attentions  ought  never  to  be  omitted ;  they  cost  little,  and 
please  a  great  deal ;  but  the  neglect  of  them  offends  more 
than  you  can  yet  imagine.  Great  merit,  or  great  failings, 
will  make  you  be  respected  or  despised ;  but  trifles,  little 
attentions,  mere  nothings,  either  done,  or  neglected,  will 
make  you  either  liked  or  disliked,  in  the  general  run  of  the 
world.  Examine  yourself  why  you  like  such  and  such  people, 
and  dislike  such  and  such  others;  and  you  will  find,  that  those 
different  sentiments  proceed  from  very  slight  causes.  Moral 
virtues  are  the  foundation  of  society  in  general,  and  of 
friendship  in  particular ;  but  attentions,  manners,  and  graces,. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  191 

both  adorn  and  strengthen  them.  My  heart  is  so  set  upon 
your  pleasing,  and  consequently  succeeding  in  the  world, 
that  possibly  I  have  already  (and  probably  shall  again)  repeat 
the  same  things  over  and  over  to  you.  However,  to  err,  if 
I  do  err,  on  the  surer  side,  I  shall  continue  to  communicate 
to  you  those  observations  upon  the  world  which  long  expe- 
rience has  enabled  me  to  make,  and  which  I  have  generally 
found  to  hold  true.  Your  youth  and  talents,  armed  with 
my  experience,  may  go  a  great  way;  and  that  armor  is 
very  much  at  your  service,  if  you  please  to  wear  it.  I 
premise  that  it  is  not  my  imagination,  but  my  memory, 
that  gives  you  these  rules :  I  am  not  writing  pretty,  but 
useful  reflections.  A  man  of  sense  soon  discovers,  because 
he  carefully  observes,  where,  and  how  long,  he  is  welcome ; 
and  takes  care  to  leave  the  company,  at  least  as  soon  as  he 
is  wished  out  of  it.  Fools  never  perceive  where  they  are 
either  ill-timed  or  ill-placed. 

I  am  this  moment  agreeably  stopped,  in  the  course  of  my 
reflections,  by  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Harte's  letter  of  the  i3th 
July,  N.  S.,  to  Mr.  Grevenkop,  with  one  inclosed  for  your 
Mamma.  I  find  by  it  that  many  of  his  and  your  letters  to 
me  must  have  miscarried ;  for  he  says  that  I  have  had  regu- 
lar accounts  of  you  :  whereas  all  those  accounts  have  been 
only  his  letter  of  the  6th  and  yours  of  the  yth  June,  N. 
S.;  his  of  the  2Oth  June,  N.  S.,  to  me;  and  now  his  of 
the  I3th  July,  N.  S.,  to  Mr.  Grevenkop.  However,  since 
you  are  so  well,  as  Mr.  Harte  says  you  are,  all  is  well.  I 
am  extremely  glad  that  you  have  no  complaint  upon  your 
lungs ;  but  I  desire  that  you  will  think  you  have,  for  three 
or  four  months  to  come.  Keep  in  a  course  of  asses'  or 
goats'  milk,  for  one  is  as  good  as  the  other,  and  possibly 
the  latter  is  the  best ;  and  let  your  common  food  be  as 
pectoral  as  you  can  conveniently  make  it.  Pray  tell  Mr. 
Harte  that,  according  to  his  desire,  I  have  wrote  a  letter 
of  thanks  to  Mr.  Firmian.  I  hope  you  write  to  him  too, 
from  time  to  time.  The  letters  of  recommendation  of  a 
man  of  his  merit  and  learning  will,  to  be  sure,  be  of  great 
use  to  you  among  the  learned  world  in  Italy ;  that  is,  pro- 
vided you  take  care  to  keep  up  to  the  character  he  gives 
you  in  them ;  otherwise  they  will  only  add  to  your  dis- 
grace. 


192  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Consider  that  you  have  lost  a  good  deal  of  time  by  your 
illness ;  fetch  it  up  now  that  you  are  well.  At  present  you 
should  be  a  good  economist  of  your  moments,  of  which 
company  and  sights  will  claim  a  considerable  share;  so  that 
those  which  remain  for  study  must  be  not  only  attentively, 
but  greedily  employed.  But  indeed  I  do  not  suspect  you 
of  one  single  moment's  idleness  in  the  whole  day.  Idle- 
ness is  only  the  refuge  of  weak  minds,  and  the  holiday  of 
fools.  I  do  not  call  good  company  and  liberal  pleasures, 
idleness ;  far  from  it :  I  recommend  to  you  a  good  share  of 
both. 

I  send  you  here  inclosed  a  letter  for  Cardinal  Alex- 
ander Albani,  which  you  will  give  him,  as  soon  as  you 
get  to  Rome,  and  before  you  deliver  any  others ;  the  Purple 
expects  that  preference;  go  next  to  the  Due  de  Nivernois, 
to  whom  you  are  recommended  by  several  people  at  Paris, 
as  well  as  by  myself.  Then  you  may  carry  your  other  let- 
ters occasionally. 

Remember  to  pry  narrowly  into  every  part  of  the  gov- 
ernment of  Venice  :  inform  yourself  of  the  history  of  that 
republic,  especially  of  its  most  remarkable  eras;  such  as 
the  Ligue  de  Cambray,  in  1509,  by  which  it  had  like  to 
have  been  destroyed ;  and  the  conspiracy  formed  by  the 
Marquis  de  Bedmar,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  to  subject  it 
to  the  Crown  of  Spain.  The  famous  disputes  between  that 
republic  and  the  Pope  are  worth  your  knowledge ;  and  the 
writings  of  the  celebrated  and  learned  Fra  Paolo  di  Sarpi, 
upon  that  occasion,  worth  your  reading.  It  was  once  the 
greatest  commercial  power  in  Europe,  and  in  the  i4th  and 
1 5th  centuries  made  a  considerable  figure ;  but  at  present 
its  commerce  is  decayed,  and  its  riches  consequently  de- 
creased ;  and,  far  from  meddling  now  with  the  affairs  of 
the  Continent,  it  owes  its  security  to  its  neutrality  and  in- 
efficiency; and  that  security  will  last  no  longer  than  till 
one  of  the  great  Powers  in  Europe  engrosses  the  rest  ot 
Italy;  an  event  which  this  century  possibly  may,  but  which 
the  next  probably  will  see. 

Your  friend  Comte  d'Ensiedlen  and  his  governor,  have 
been  with  me  this  moment,  and  delivered  me  your  letter 
from  Berlin,  of  February  the  28th,  N.  S.  I  like  them  both 
ao  well  that  I  am  glad  you  did;  and  still  gladder  to  hear 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  193 

what  they  say  of  you.     Go  on,  and  continue  to  deserve  the 
praises  of  those  who  deserve  praises    themselves.     Adieu. 

I  break  open  this  letter  to  acknowledge  yours  of  the  3Oth 
June,  N.  S.,  which  I  have  but  this  instant  received,  though 
thirteen  days  antecedent  in  date  to  Mr.  Harte's  last.  I 
never  in  my  life  heard  of  bathing  four  hours  a  day;  and  I 
am  impatient  to  hear  of  your  safe  arrival  at  Venice,  after 
so  extraordinary  an  operation. 


LETTER  LXXVI 

LONDON,  July  30,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  Mr.  Harte's  letters  and  yours  drop  in  upon 
me  most  irregularly ;  for  I  received,  by  the  last  post, 
one  from  Mr.  Harte,  of  the  pth,  N.  S.,  and  that 
which  Mr.  Grevenkop  had  received  from  him,  the  post  be- 
fore, was  of  the  i3th;  at  last,  I  suppose,  I  shall  receive 
them  all. 

I  am  very  glad  that  my  letter,  with  Dr.  Shaw's  opinion, 
has  lessened  your  bathing;  for  since  I  was  born,  I  never 
heard  of  bathing  four  hours  a-day ;  which  would  surely  be 
too  much,  even  in  Medea's  kettle,  if  you  wanted  (as  you 
do  not  yet)  new  boiling. 

Though,  in  that  letter  of  mine,  I  proposed  your  going  to 
Inspruck,  it  was  only  in  opposition  to  Lausanne,  which  I 
thought  much  too  long  and  painful  a  journey  for  you ;  but 
you  will  have  found,  by  my  subsequent  letters,  that  I  en- 
tirely approved  of  Venice ;  where  I  hope  you  have  now 
been  some  time,  and  which  is  a  much  better  place  for  you 
to  reside  at,  till  you  go  to  Naples,  than  either  Tieffer  or 
Laubach.  I  love  capitals  extremely ;  it  is  in  capitals  that 
the  best  company  is  always  to  be  found;  and  consequently, 
the  best  manners  to  be  learned.  The  very  best  provincial 
places  have  some  awkwardness,  that  distinguish  their  man- 
ners from  those  of  the  metropolis.  A  propos  of  capitals,  I 
send  you  here  two  letters  of  recommendation  to  Naples, 
from  Monsieur  Finochetti,  the  Neapolitan  Minister  at  The 
13 


i94  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Hague;  and  in  my  next  I  shall  send  you  two  more,  from 
the  same  person,  to  the  same  place. 

I  have  examined  Comte  d'Einsiedlen  so  narrowly  con- 
cerning you,  that  I  have  extorted  from  him  a  confession 
that  you  do  not  care  to  speak  German,  unless  to  such  as 
understand  no  other  language.  At  this  rate,  you  will  never 
speak  it  well,  which  I  am  very  desirous  that  you  should 
do,  and  of  which  you  would,  in  time,  find  the  advantage. 
Whoever  has  not  the  command  of  a  language,  and  does  not 
speak  it  with  facility,  will  always  appear  below  himself 
when  he  converses  in  that  language;  the  want  of  words 
and  phrases  will  cramp  and  lame  his  thoughts.  As  you 
now  know  German  enough  to  express  yourself  tolerably, 
speaking  it  very  often  will  soon  make  you  speak  it  very 
well :  and  then  you  will  appear  in  it  whatever  you  are. 
What  with  your  own  Saxon  servant  and  the  swarms  of 
Germans  you  will  meet  with  wherever  you  go,  you  may 
have  opportunities  of  conversing  in  that  language  half  the 
day;  and  I  do  very  seriously  desire  that  you  will,  or  else 
all  the  pains  that  you  have  already  taken  about  it.  are  lost. 
You  will  remember  likewise,  that,  till  you  can  write  in 
Italian,  you  are  always  to  write  to  me  in  German. 

Mr.  Harte's  conjecture  concerning  your  distemper  seems 
to  be  a  very  reasonable  one;  it  agrees  entirely  with  mine, 
which  is  the  universal  rule  by  which  every  man  judges  of 
another  man's  opinion.  But,  whatever  may  have  been  the 
cause  of  your  rheumatic  disorder,  the  effects  are  still  to  be 
attended  to ;  and  as  there  must  be  a  remaining  acrimony 
in  your  blood,  you  ought  to  have  regard  to  that,  in  your 
common  diet  as  well  as  in  your  medicines ;  both  which  should 
be  of  a  sweetening  alkaline  nature,  and  promotive  of  perspira- 
tion. Rheumatic  complaints  are  very  apt  to  return,  and  those 
returns  would  be  very  vexatious  and  detrimental  to  you,  at 
your  age,  and  in  your  course  of  travels.  Your  time  is,  now 
particularly,  inestimable ;  and  every  hour  of  it,  at  present, 
worth  more  than  a  year  will  be  to  you  twenty  years  hence. 
You  are  now  laying  the  foundation  of  your  future  char- 
acter and  fortune ;  and  one  single  stone  wanting  in  that 
foundation  is  of  more  consequence  than  fifty  in  the  super- 
structure ;  which  can  always  be  mended  and  embellished  if 
the  foundation  is  solid.  To  carry  on  the  metaphor  of 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  195 

building :  I  would  wish  you  to  be  a  Corinthian  edifice 
upon  a  Tuscan  foundation ;  the  latter  having  the  utmost 
strength  and  solidity  to  support,  and  the  former  all  possible 
ornaments  to  decorate.  The  Tuscan  column  is  coarse,  clumsy, 
and  unpleasant ;  nobody  looks  at  it  twice ;  the  Corinthian 
fluted  column  is  beautiful  and  attractive ;  but  without  a 
solid  foundation,  can  hardly  be  seen  twice,  because  it  must 
soon  tumble  down.  Yours  affectionately. 


LETTER   LXXVIT 

LONDON,  August  7,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  By  Mr.  Harte's  letter  to  me  of  the  i8th 
July  N.  S.,  which  I  received  by  the  last  post,  I  am 
at  length  informed  of  the  particulars  both  of  your 
past  distemper,  and  of  your  future  motions.  As  to  the 
former,  I  am  now  convinced,  and  so  is  Dr.  Shaw,  that 
your  lungs  were  only  symptomatically  affected;  and  that  the 
rheumatic  tendency  is  what  you  are  chiefly  now  to  guard 
against,  but  (for  greater  security)  with  due  attention  still  to 
your  lungs,  as  if  they  had  been,  and  still  were,  a  little 
affected.  In  either  case,  a  cooling,  pectoral  regimen  is 
equally  good.  By  cooling,  I  mean  cooling  in  its  conse- 
quences, not  cold  to  the  palate ;  for  nothing  is  more  dan- 
gerous than  very  cold  liquors,  at  the  very  time  that  one 
longs  for  them  the  most ;  which  is,  when  one  is  very  hot. 
Fruit,  when  full  ripe,  is  very  wholesome;  but  then  it  must 
be  within  certain  bounds  as  to  quantity ;  for  I  have  known 
many  of  my  countrymen  die  of  bloody-fluxes,  by  indulging 
in  too  great  a  quantity  of  fruit,  in  those  countries  where, 
from  the  goodness  and  ripeness  of  it,  they  thought  it  could 
do  them  no  harm.  Ne  quid  ntmh,  is  a  most  excellent  rule  in 
everything;  but  commonly  the  least  observed,  by  people  of 
your  age,  in  anything. 

As  to  your  future  motions,  I  am  very  well  pleased  with 
them,  and  greatly  prefer  your  intended  stay  at  Verona  to 
Venice,  whose  almost  stagnating  waters  must,  at  this  time 
of  the  year,  corrupt  the  air.  Verona  has  a  pure  and  clear 
air,  and,  as  I  am  informed,  a  great  deal  of  good  company. 


196  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Marquis  Maffei,  alone,  would  be  worth  going  there  for. 
You  may,  I  think,  very  well  leave  Verona  about  the  mid- 
dle of  September,  when  the  great  heats  will  be  quite  over, 
and  then  make  the  best  of  your  way  to  Naples ;  where,  I 
own,  I  want  to  have  you  by  way  of  precaution  (  I  hope 
it  is  rather  over  caution)  in  case  of  the  last  remains  of  a 
pulmonic  disorder.  The  amphitheatre  at  Verona  is  worth 
your  attention ;  as  are  also  many  buildings  there  and  at 
Vicenza,  of  the  famous  Andrea  Palladio,  whose  taste  and 
style  of  buildings  were  truly  antique.  It  would  not  be 
amiss,  if  you  employed  three  or  four  days  in  learning  the 
five  orders  of  architecture,  with  their  general  proportions ; 
and  you  may  know  all  that  you  need  know  of  them  in 
that  time.  Palladio's  own  book  of  architecture  is  the  best 
you  can  make  use  of  for  that  purpose,  skipping  over  the 
mechanical  part  of  it,  such  as  the  materials,  the  cement,  etc. 
Mr.  Harte  tells  me,  that  your  acquaintance  with  the 
classics  is  renewed ;  the  suspension  of  which  has  been  so 
short,  that  I  dare  say  it  has  produced  no  coldness.  I  hope 
and  believe,  you  are  now  so  much  master  of  them,  that 
two  hours  every  day,  uninterruptedly,  for  a  year  or  two 
more,  will  make  you  perfectly  so;  and  I  think  you  cannot 
now  allot  them  a  greater  share  than  that  of  your  time,  consid- 
ering the  many  other  things  you  have  to  learn  and  to  do. 
You  must  know  how  to  speak  and  write  Italian  perfectly; 
you  must  learn  some  logic,  some  geometry,  and  some 
astronomy;  not  to  mention  your  exercises,  where  they  are 
to  be  learned;  and,  above  all,  you  must  learn  the  world, 
which  is  not  soon  learned ;  and  only  to  be  learned  by  fre- 
quenting good  and  various  companies. 

Consider,  therefore,  how  precious  every  moment  of  time 
is  to  you  now.  The  more  you  apply  to  your  business,  the 
more  you  will  taste  your  pleasures.  The  exercise  of  the 
mind  in  the  morning  whets  the  appetite  for  the  pleasures 
of  the  evening,  as  much  as  the  exercise  of  the  body  whets 
the  appetite  for  dinner.  Business  and  pleasure,  rightly 
understood,  mutually  assist  each  other,  instead  of  being 
enemies,  as  silly  or  dull  people  often  think  them.  No  man 
tastes  pleasures  truly,  who  does  not  earn  them  by  previous 
business;  and  few  people  do  business  well,  who  do  noth- 
ing else.  Remember  that  when  I  speak  of  pleasures,  I 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  197 

always  mean  the  elegant  pleasures  of  a  rational  being,  and 
not  the  brutal  ones  of  a  swine.  I  mean  la  bonne  Chere, 
short  of  gluttony  ;  wine,  infinitely  short  of  drunkenness  ;  play, 
without  the  least  gaming ;  and  gallantry  without  debauchery. 
There  is  a  line  in  all  these  things  which  men  of  sense, 
for  greater  security,  take  care  to  keep  a  good  deal  on  the 
right  side  of;  for  sickness,  pain,  contempt  and  infamy,  He 
immediately  on  the  other  side  of  it.  Men  of  sense  and 
merit,  in  all  other  respects,  may  have  had  some  of  these  fail- 
ings; but  then  those  few  examples,  instead  of  inviting  us 
to  imitation,  should  only  put  us  the  more  upon  our  guard 
against  such  weaknesses :  and  whoever  thinks  them  fash- 
ionable, will  not  be  so  himself;  I  have  often  known  a  fash- 
ionable man  have  some  one  vice ;  but  I  never  in  my  life 
knew  a  vicious  man  a  fashionable  man.  Vice  is  as  degrad- 
ing as  it  is  criminal.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  child! 


LETTER   LXXVIII 

LONDON,  August  20,  O.  S. 

DBAR  BOY:  Let  us  resume  our  reflections  upon  men, 
their  characters,  their  manners,  in  a  word,  our  reflec- 
tions upon  the  world.  They  may  help  you  to  form 
yourself,  and  to  know  others ;  a  knowledge  very  useful  at 
all  ages,  very  rare  at  yours.  It  seems  as  if  it  were  nobody's 
business  to  communicate  it  to  young  men.  Their  masters 
teach  them,  singly,  the  languages  or  the  sciences  of  their 
several  departments ;  and  are  indeed  generally  incapable  of 
teaching  them  the  world:  their  parents  are  often  so  too,  or 
at  least  neglect  doing  it,  either  from  avocations,  indifference, 
or  from  an  opinion  that  throwing  them  into  the  world  (as 
they  call  it)  is  the  best  way  of  teaching  it  them.  This  last 
notion  is  in  a  great  degree  true ;  that  is,  the  world  can 
doubtless  never  be  well  known  by  theory:  practice  is  abso- 
lutely necessary ;  but  surely  it  is  of  great  use  to  a  young 
man,  before  he  sets  out  for  that  country  full  of  mazes, 
windings,  and  turnings,  to  have  at  least  a  general  map  of 
it,  made  by  some  experienced  traveler. 


198  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

There  is  a  certain  dignity  of  manners  absolutely  neces- 
sary, to  make  even  the  most  valuable  character  either  respected 
or  respectable.* 

Horse-play,  romping,  frequent  and  loud  fits  of  laughter, 
jokes,  waggery,  and  indiscriminate  familiarity,  will  sink  both 
merit  and  knowledge  into  a  degree  of  contempt.  They 
compose  at  most  a  merry  fellow;  and  a  merry  fellow  was 
never  yet  a  respectable  man.  Indiscriminate  familiarity 
either  offends  your  superiors,  or  else  dubbs  you  their  de- 
pendent and  led  captain.  It  gives  your  inferiors  just,  but 
troublesome  and  improper  claims  of  equality.  A  joker  is 
near  akin  to  a  buffoon;  and  neither  of  them  is  the  least  re- 
lated to  wit.  Whoever  is  admitted  or  sought  for,  in  com- 
pany, upon  any  other  account  than  that  of  his  merit  and 
manners,  is  never  respected  there,  but  only  made  use  of. 
We  will  have  such-a-one,  for  he  sings  prettily ;  we  will  in- 
vite such-a-one  to  a  ball,  for  he  dances  well ;  we  will  have 
such-a-one  at  supper,  for  he  is  always  joking  and  laughing; 
we  will  ask  another,  because  he  plays  deep  at  all  games, 
or  because  he  can  drink  a  great  deal.  These  are  all  vilify- 
ing distinctions,  mortifying  preferences,  and  exclude  all  ideas 
of  esteem  and  regard.  Whoever  is  HAD  (as  it  is  called)  in 
company  for  the  sake  of  any  one  thing  singly,  is  singly 
that  thing  and  will  never  be  considered  in  any  other  light ; 
consequently  never  respected,  let  his  merits  be  what  they 
will. 

This  dignity  of  manners,  which  I  recommend  so  much  to 
you,  is  not  only  as  different  from  pride,  as  true  courage  is 
from  blustering,  or  true  wit  from  joking;  but  is  absolutely 
inconsistent  with  it;  for  nothing  vilifies  and  degrades  more 
than  pride.  The  pretensions  of  the  proud  man  are  oftener 
treated  with  sneer  and  contempt,  than  with  indignation ;  as 
we  offer  ridiculously  too  little  to  a  tradesman,  who  asks 
ridiculously  too  much  for  his  goods;  but  we  do  not  haggle 
with  one  who  only  asks  a  just  and  reasonable  price. 

Abject  flattery  and  indiscriminate  assentation  degrade  as 
much  as  indiscriminate  contradiction  and  noisy  debate  dis- 
gust. But  a  modest  assertion  of  one's  own  opinion,  and  a 
complaisant  acquiescence  to  other  people's,  preserve  dig- 
nity. 

*  Meaning  worthy  of  respect. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  199 

Vulgar,  low  expressions,  awkward  motions  and  address, 
vilify,  as  they  imply  either  a  very  low  turn  of  mind,  or 
low  education  and  low  company. 

Frivolous  curiosity  about  trifles,  and  a  laborious  attention 
to  little  objects  which  neither  require  nor  deserve  a  moment's 
thought,  lower  a  man;  who  from  thence  is  thought  (and 
not  unjustly)  incapable  of  greater  matters.  Cardinal  de 
Retz,  very  sagaciously,  marked  out  Cardinal  Chigi  for  a 
little  mind,  from  the  moment  that  he  told  him  he  had  wrote 
three  years  with  the  same  pen,  and  that  it  was  an  excellent 
good  one  still. 

A  certain  degree  of  exterior  seriousness  in  looks  and 
motions  gives  dignity,  without  excluding  wit  and  decent 
cheerfulness,  which  are  always  serious  themselves.  A  con- 
stant smirk  upon  the  face,  and  a  whiffling  activity  of  the 
body,  are  strong  indications  of  futility.  Whoever  is  in  a 
hurry,  shows  that  the  thing  he  is  about  is  too  big  for  him. 
Haste  and  hurry  are  very  different  things. 

I  have  only  mentioned  some  of  those  things  which  may, 
and  do,  in  the  opinion  of  the  world,  lower  and  sink 
characters,  in  other  respects  valuable  enough,  but  I  have 
taken  no  notice  of  those  that  affect  and  sink  the  moral 
characters.  They  are  sufficiently  obvious.  A  man  who  has 
patiently  been  kicked  may  as  well  pretend  to  courage,  as  a 
man  blasted  by  vices  and  crimes  may  to  dignity  of  any 
kind.  But  an  exterior  decency  and  dignity  of  manners 
will  even  keep  such  a  man  longer  from  sinking,  than  other- 
wise he  would  be:  of  such  consequence  is  the  TO  Ttpeitou, 
even  though  affected  and  put  on !  Pray  read  frequently, 
and  with  the  utmost  attention,  nay,  get  by  heart,  if  you 
can,  that  incomparable  chapter  in  Cicero's  <(  Offices, w  upon 
the  TO  TATTOO,  or  the  Decorum.  It  contains  whatever  is 
necessary  for  the  dignity  of  manners. 

In  my  next  I  will  send  you  a  general  map  of  courts;  a 
region  yet  unexplored  by  you,  but  which  you  are  one  day 
to  inhabit.  The  ways  are  generally  crooked  and  full  of 
turnings,  sometimes  strewed  with  flowers,  sometimes  choked 
up  with  briars ;  rotten  ground  and  deep  pits  frequently  lie 
concealed  under  a  smooth  and  pleasing  surface;  all  the  paths 
are  slippery,  and  every  slip  is  dangerous.  Sense  and  dis- 
cretion must  accompany  you  at  your  first  setting  out ;  but, 


200  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

notwithstanding  those,  till  experience  is  your  guide,  you 
will  every  now  and  then  step  out  of  your  way,  or  stum- 
ble. 

Lady  Chesterfield  has  just  now  received  your  German 
letter,  for  which  she  thanks  you ;  she  says  the  language  is 
very  correct ;  and  I  can  plainly  see  that  the  character  is 
well  formed,  not  to  say  better  than  your  English  character. 
Continue  to  write  German  frequently,  that  it  may  become 
quite  familiar  to  you.  Adieu. 


LETTER   LXXIX 

LONDON,  August  21,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :    By  the  last  letter   that  I  received  from  Mr. 
Harte,    of   the    3ist    July,  N.  S.,  I   suppose   you    are 
now   either    at  Venice    or  Verona,    and    perfectly  re- 
covered   of    your    late  illness :    which  I  am    daily  more    and 
more    convinced   had    no    consumptive    tendency ;     however, 
for  some  time  still,    faites  comme  s'ily  en  avoit,  be   regular, 
and  live  pectorally. 

You  will  soon  be  at  courts,  where,  though  you  will  not 
be  concerned,  yet  reflection  and  observation  upon  what 
you  see  and  hear  there  may  be  of  use  to  you,  when  here- 
after you  may  come  to  be  concerned  in  courts  yourself. 
Nothing  in  courts  is  exactly  as  it  appears  to  be ;  often  very 
different ;  sometimes  directly  contrary.  Interest,  which  is 
the  real  spring  of  everything  there,  equally  creates  and 
dissolves  friendship,  produces  and  reconciles  enmities:  or, 
rather,  allows  of  neither  real  friendships  nor  enmities ;  for, 
as  Dryden  very  justly  observes,  POLITICIANS  NEITHER  LOVE 
NOR  HATB.  This  is  so  true,  that  you  may  think  you  con- 
nect yourself  with  two  friends  to-day,  and  be  obliged  to- 
morrow to  make  your  option  between  them  as  enemies; 
observe,  therefore,  such  a  degree  of  reserve  with  your 
friends  as  not  to  put  yourself  in  their  power,  if  they 
should  become  your  enemies ;  and  such  a  degree  of  modera- 
tion with  your  enemies,  as  not  to  make  it  impossible  for 
them  to  become  your  friends. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  201 

Courts  are,  unquestionably,  the  seats  of  politeness  and 
good-breeding;  were  they  not  so,  they  would  be  the  seats 
of  slaughter  and  desolation.  Those  who  now  smile  upon 
and  embrace,  would  affront  and  stab  each  other,  if  manners 
did  not  interpose ;  but  ambition  and  avarice,  the  two  pre- 
vailing passions  at  courts,  found  dissimulation  more  effectual 
than  violence ;  and  dissimulation  introduced  that  habit  of 
politeness,  which  distinguishes  the  courtier  from  the  country 
gentleman.  In  the  former  case  the  strongest  body  would 
prevail ;  in  the  latter,  the  strongest  mind. 

A  man  of  parts  and  efficiency  need  not  flatter  everybody 
at  court ;  but  he  must  take  great  care  to  offend  nobody 
personally ;  it  being  in  the  power  of  every  man  to  hurt 
him,  who  cannot  serve  him.  Homer  supposes  a  chain  let 
down  from  Jupiter  to  the  earth,  to  connect  him  with 
mortals.  There  is,  at  all  courts,  a  chain  which  connects  the 
prince  or  the  minister  with  the  page  of  the  back  stairs,  or  the 
chamber-maid.  The  king's  wife,  or  mistress,  has  an  influence 
over  him  ;  a  lover  has  an  influence  over  her ;  the  chamber- 
maid, or  the  valet  de  chambre,  has  an  influence  over  both, 
and  so  ad  infinitum.  You  must,  therefore,  not  break  a 
link  of  that  chain,  by  which  you  hope  to  climb  up  to  the 
prince. 

You  must  renounce  courts  if  you  will  not  connive  at 
knaves,  and  tolerate  fools.  Their  number  makes  them  con- 
siderable. You  should  as  little  quarrel  as  connect  yourself 
with  either. 

Whatever  you  say  or  do  at  court,  you  may  depend  upon 
it,  will  be  known ;  the  business  of  most  of  those,  who 
crowd  levees  and  anti-chambers,  being  to  repeat  all  that 
they  see  or  hear,  and  a  great  deal  that  they  neither  see  nor 
hear,  according  as  they  are  inclined  to  the  persons  con- 
cerned, or  according  to  the  wishes  of  those  to  whom  they 
hope  to  make  their  court.  Great  caution  is  therefore 
necessary;  and  if,  to  great  caution,  you  can  join  seeming 
frankness  and  openness,  you  will  unite  what  Machiavel 
reckons  very  difficult  but  very  necessary  to  be  united; 
•volto  sciolto  2  pensieri  stretti. 

Women  are  very  apt  to  be  mingled  in  court  intrigues ; 
but  they  deserve  attention  better  than  confidence;  to  hold 
by  them  is  a  very  precarious  tenure. 


202  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

I  am  agreeably  interrupted  in  these  reflections  by  a  letter 
•which  I  have  this  moment  received  from  Baron  Firmian. 
It  contains  your  panegyric,  and  with  the  strongest  protesta- 
tions imaginable  that  he  does  you  only  justice.  I  received 
this  favorable  account  of  you  with  pleasure,  and  I  com- 
municate it  to  you  with  as  much.  While  you  deserve 
praise,  it  is  reasonable  you  should  know  that  you  meet  with 
it;  and  I  make  no  doubt,  but  that  it  will  encourage  you  in 
persevering  to  deserve  it.  This  is  one  paragraph  of  the 
Baron's  letter :  Ses  moeurs  dans  un  age  si  tendre,  regimes 
selon  toules  les  loix  dune  morale  exacte  et  sensee;  son  appli- 
cation (that  is  what  I  like)  d,  tout  ce  qui  s"1  appelle  etude 
.se"rieuse,  et  Belles  Lettres,  £loign£e  de  Vombre  mdme  d*un 
Faste  P&dantesque,  le  rendent  tr"es  digne  de  vos  tendres 
soins;  et  f  ai  F honneur  de  vous  assurer  que  chacun  se 
louera  beaucoup  de  son  commerce  aise,  et  de  son  amitid;  /"' 
en  ai  profit^  avec  plasir  id  et  &  Vienne,  et  je  me  crois 
trbs  heureux  de  la  permission,  qu'il  m'a  accordee,  de  la 
continuer  par  la  voie  de  lettres.*  —  Reputation,  like  health, 
is  preserved  and  increased  by  the  same  means  by  which  it 
is  acquired.  Continue  to  desire  and  deserve  praise,  and 
you  will  certainly  find  it.  Knowledge,  adorned  by  manners, 
will  infallibly  procure  it.  Consider,  that  you  have  but  a 
little  way  further  to  get  to  your  journey's  end ;  therefore, 
for  God's  sake,  do  not  slacken  your  pace ;  one  year  and 
a  half  more  of  sound  application,  Mr.  Harte  assures  me, 
will  finish  this  work ;  and  when  this  work  is  finished  well, 
your  own  will  be  very  easily  done  afterward.  Les  Manibres 
.et  les  Graces  are  no  immaterial  parts  of  that  work ;  and  I 
beg  that  you  will  give  as  much  of  your  attention  to  them 
as  to  your  books.  Everything  depends  upon  them ;  senza 
di  not  ogni  fatica  "e  vana.  The  various  companies  you  now  go 

*  "  Notwithstanding  his  great  youth,  his  manners  are  regulated  by 
the  most  unexceptionable  rules  of  sense  and  of  morality.  His  applica- 
tion (THAT  is  WHAT  i  LIKE)  to  every  kind  of  serious  study,  as  well 
as  to  polite  literature,  without  even  the  least  appearance  of  ostenta- 
tious pedantry,  render  him  worthy  of  your  most  tender  affection ; 
and  I  have  the  honor  of  assuring  you,  that  everyone  cannot  but  be 
pleased  with  the  acquisition  of  his  acquaintance  or  of  his  friend- 
ship. I  have  profited  of  it,  both  here  and  at  Vienna;  and  shall 
esteem  myself  very  happy  to  make  use  of  the  permission  he  has 
given  me  of  continuing  it  by  letter." 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  203 

into  will  procure  them  you,    if    you   will  carefully  observe, 
and  form  yourself  upon  those  who  have  them. 

Adieu!     God  bless  you!    and  may  you   ever  deserve   that 
affection  with  which  I  am  now,  Yours. 


LETTER    LXXX 

LONDON,  September  5,  O.  S.  1749. 

DBAR  BOY  :  I  have  received  yours  from  Laubach,  of  the 
iyth  of  August,  N.  S.,  with  the  inclosed  for  Comte 
Lascaris;  which  I  have  given  him,  and  with  which 
he  is  extremely  pleased,  as  I  am  with  your  account  of 
Carniola.  I  am  very  glad  that  you  attend  to,  and  inform 
yourself  of,  the  political  objects  of  the  country  you  go 
through.  Trade  and  manufactures  are  very  considerable, 
not  to  say  the  most  important  ones ;  for,  though  armies 
and  navies  are  the  shining  marks  of  the  strength  of  coun- 
tries, they  would  be  very  ill  paid,  and  consequently  fight 
very  ill,  if  manufactures  and  commerce  did  not  support 
them.  You  have  certainly  observed  in  Germany  the  ineffi- 
ciency of  great  powers,  with  great  tracts  of  country  and 
swarms  of  men ;  which  are  absolutely  useless,  if  not  paid 
by  other  powers  who  have  the  resources  of  manufactures 
and  commerce.  This  we  have  lately  experienced  to  be  the 
case  of  the  two  empresses  of  Germany  and  Russia :  Eng- 
land, France,  and  Spain,  must  pay  their  respective  allies, 
or  they  may  as  well  be  without  them. 

I  have  not  the  least  objection  to  your  taking,  into  the 
bargain,  the  observation  of  natural  curiosities ;  they  are  very 
welcome,  provided  they  do  not  take  up  the  room  of  better 
things.  But  the  forms  of  government,  the  maxims  of  pol- 
icy, the  strength  or  weakness,  the  trade  and  commerce,  of 
the  several  countries  you  see  or  hear  of  are  the  important 
objects,  which  I  recommend  to  your  most  minute  inquiries, 
and  most  serious  attention.  I  thought  that  the  republic  of 
Venice  had  by  this  time  laid  aside  that  silly  and  frivolous 
piece  of  policy,  of  endeavoring  to  conceal  their  form  of 
government ;  which  anybody  may  know,  pretty  nearly,  by 


204  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

taking  the  pains  to  read  four  or  five  books,  which  explain 
all  the  great  parts  of  it ;  and  as  for  some  of  the  little 
wheels  of  that  machine,  the  knowledge  of  them  would  be 
as  little  useful  to  others  as  dangerous  to  themselves.  Their 
best  policy  (I  can  tell  them)  is  to  keep  quiet,  and  to  offend 
no  one  great  power,  by  joining  with  another.  Their  escape, 
after  the  Ligue  of  Cambray,  should  prove  a  useful  lesson 
to  them. 

I  am  glad  you  frequent  the  assemblies  at  Venice.  Have 
you  seen  Monsieur  and  Madame  Capello,  and  how  did  they 
receive  you?  Let  me  know  who  are  the  ladies  whose  houses 
you  frequent  the  most.  Have  you  seen  the  Comptesse 
d'Orselska,  Princess  of  Holstein?  Is  Comte  Algarotti,  who 
was  the  TENANT  there,  at  Venice? 

You  will,  in  many  parts  of  Italy,  meet  with  numbers  of 
the  Pretender's  people  (English,  Scotch,  and  Irish  fugitives), 
especially  at  Rome  ;  probably  the  Pretender  himself.  It  is 
none  of  your  business  to  declare  war  to  these  people,  as 
little  as  it  is  your  interest,  or,  I  hope,  your  inclination,  to 
connect  yourself  with  them  ;  and  therefore  I  recommend  to 
you  a  perfect  neutrality.  Avoid  them  as  much  as  you  can 
with  decency  and  good  manners ;  but  when  you  cannot, 
avoid  any  political  conversation  or  debates  with  them ;  tell 
them  that  you  do  not  concern  yourself  with  political  mat- 
ters :  that  you  are  neither  maker  nor  a  deposer  of  kings  ; 
that  when  you  left  England,  you  left  a  king  in  it,  and 
have  not  since  heard  either  of  his  death,  or  of  any  revolu- 
tion that  has  happened  ;  and  that  you  take  kings  and  king- 
doms as  you  find  them ;  but  enter  no  further  into  matters 
with  them,  which  can  be  of  no  use,  and  might  bring  on 
heats  and  quarrels.  When  you  speak  of  the  old  Pretender, 
you  will  call  him  only  the  Chevalier  de  St.  George  ;  but 
mention  him  as  seldom  as  possible.  Should  he  chance  to 
speak  to  you  at  any  assembly  (as,  I  am  told,  he  sometimes 
does  to  the  English),  be  sure  that  you  seem  not  to  know 
him  ;  and  answer  him  civilly,  but  always  either  in  French 
or  in  Italian  ;  and  give  him,  in  the  former,  the  appellation 
of  Monsieur,  and  in  the  latter,  of  Signore.  Should  you 
meet  with  the  Cardinal  of  York,  you  will  be  under  no  dif- 
ficulty ;  for  he  has,  as  Cardinal,  an  undoubted  right  to 
Eminenza.  Upon  the  whole,  see  any  of  those  people  as 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  205 

little  as  possible  ;  when  you  do  see  them,  be  civil  to  them, 
upon  the  footing  of  strangers ;  but  never  be  drawn  into 
any  altercations  with  them  about  the  imaginary  right  of 
their  king,  as  they  call  him. 

It  is  to  no  sort  of  purpose  to  talk  to  those  people  of  the 
natural  rights  of  mankind,  and  the  particular  constitution 
of  this  country.  Blinded  by  prejudices,  soured  by  misfor- 
tunes, and  tempted  by  their  necessities,  they  are  as  inca- 
pable of  reasoning  rightly,  as  they  have  hitherto  been  of 
acting  wisely.  The  late  Lord  Pembroke  never  would  know 
anything  that  he  had  not  a  mind  to  know  ;  and,  in  this 
case,  I  advise  you  to  follow  his  example.  Never  know 
either  the  father  or  the  two  sons,  any  otherwise  than  as 
foreigners  ;  and  so,  not  knowing  their  pretensions,  you  have 
no  occasion  to  dispute  them. 

I  can  never  help  recommending  to  you  the  utmost  atten- 
tion and  care,  to  acquire  les  Manibres,  la  Tournure,  et  les 
Graces,  d'un  galant  homme,  et  <Tun  homme  de  cour.  They 
should  appear  in  every  look,  in  every  action ;  in  your 
address,  and  even  in  your  dress,  if  you  would  either  please 
or  rise  in  the  world.  That  you  may  do  both  (and  both  are 
in  your  power)  is  most  ardently  wished  you,  by  Yours. 

P.  S.  I  made  Comte  Lascaris  show  me  your  letter, 
which  I  liked  very  well ;  the  style  was  easy  and  natural, 
and  the  French  pretty  correct.  There  were  so  few  faults 
in  the  orthography,  that  a  little  more  observation  of  the 
best  French  authors  would  make  you  a  correct  master  of 
that  necessary  language. 

I  will  not  conceal  from  you,  that  I  have  lately  had  extraor- 
dinary good  accounts  of  you,  from  an  unexpected  and 
judicious  person,  who  promises  me  that,  with  a  little  more 
of  the  world,  your  manners  and  address  will  equal  your 
knowledge.  This  is  the  more  pleasing  to  me,  as  those  were 
the  two  articles  of  which  I  was  the  most  doubtful.  These 
commendations  will  not,  I  am  persuaded,  make  you  vain 
and  coxcomical,  but  only  encourage  you  to  go  on  in  the 
right  way 


206  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER   LXXXI 

LONDON,  September  12,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  It  seems  extraordinary,  but  it  is  very  true, 
that  my  anxiety  for  you  increases  in  proportion  to  the 
good  accounts  which  I  receive  of  you  from  all 
hands.  I  promise  myself  so  much  from  you,  that  I  dread 
the  least  disappointment.  You  are  now  so  near  the  port, 
which  I  have  so  long  wished  and  labored  to  bring  you  safe 
into,  that  my  concern  would  be  doubled,  should  you  be 
shipwrecked  within  sight  of  it.  The  object,  therefore,  of 
this  letter  is  (laying  aside  all  the  authority  of  a  parent) 
to  conjure  you  as  a  friend,  by  the  affection  you  have  for 
me  (and  surely  you  have  reason  to  have  some),  and  by  the 
regard  you  have  for  yourself,  to  go  on,  with  assiduity  and 
attention,  to  complete  that  work  which,  of  late,  you  have 
carried  on  so  well,  and  which  is  now  so  near  being  finished. 
My  wishes  and  my  plan  were  to  make  you  shine  and  dis- 
tinguish yourself  equally  in  the  learned  and  the  polite 
world.  Few  have  been  able  to  do  it.  Deep  learning  is 
generally  tainted  with  pedantry,  or  at  least  unadorned  by 
manners:  as,  on  the  other  hand,  polite  manners  and  the 
turn  of  the  world  are  too  often  unsupported  by  knowledge, 
and  consequently  end  contemptibly,  in  the  frivolous  dis- 
sipation of  drawing-rooms  and  ruelles.  You  are  now  got 
over  the  dry  and  difficult  parts  of  learning ;  what  remains 
requires  much  more  time  than  trouble.  You  have  lost  time 
by  your  illness ;  you  must  regain  it  now  or  never.  I  there- 
fore most  earnestly  desire,  for  your  own  sake,  that  for  these 
next  six  months,  at  least  six  hours  every  morning,  uninter- 
ruptedly, may  be  inviolably  sacred  to  your  studies  with  Mr. 
Harte.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  will  require  so  much ; 
but  I  know  that  I  do,  and  hope  you  will,  and  consequently 
prevail  with  him  to  give  you  that  time ;  I  own  it  is  a  good 
deal:  but  when  both  you  and  he  consider  that  the  work 
will  be  so  much  better,  and  so  much  sooner  done,  by  such 
an  assiduous  and  continued  application,  you  will,  neither  of 
you,  think  it  too  much,  and  each  will  find  his  account  in, 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  207 

it.  So  much  for  the  mornings,  which  from  your  own  good 
sense,  and  Mr.  Harte's  tenderness  and  care  of  you,  will,  I 
am  sure,  be  thus  well  employed.  It  is  not  only  reasonable, 
but  useful  too,  that  your  evenings  should  be  devoted  to 
amusements  and  pleasures:  and  therefore  I  not  only  allow, 
but  recommend,  that  they  should  be  employed  at  assemblies, 
balls,  SPECTACLES,  and  in  the  best  companies;  with  this 
restriction  only,  that  the  consequences  of  the  evening's 
diversions  may  not  break  in  upon  the  morning's  studies,  by 
breakfastings,  visits,  and  idle  parties  into  the  country.  At 
you  age,  you  need  not  be  ashamed,  when  any  of  these 
morning  parties  are  proposed,  to  say  that  you  must  beg  to 
be  excused,  for  you  are  obliged  to  devote  your  mornings  to 
Mr.  Harte;  that  I  will  have  it  so;  and  that  you  dare  not 
do  otherwise.  Lay  it  all  upon  me;  though  I  am  persuaded 
it  will  be  as  much  your  own  inclination  as  it  is  mine.  But 
those  frivolous,  idle  people,  whose  time  hangs  upon  their 
own  hands,  and  who  desire  to  make  others  lose  theirs  too, 
are  not  to  be  reasoned  with:  and  indeed  it  would  be  doing 
them  too  much  honor.  The  shortest  civil  answers  are  the 
best;  I  CANNOT,  I  DARE  NOT,  instead  of  I  WILL  NOT;  for 
if  you  were  to  enter  with  them  into  the  necessity  of  study 
and  the  usefulness  of  knowledge,  it  would  only  furnish  them 
with  matter  for  silly  jests ;  which,  though  I  would  not  have 
you  mind,  I  would  not  have  you  invite.  I  will  suppose 
you  at  Rome  studying  six  hours  uninterruptedly  with  Mr. 
Harte,  every  morning,  and  passing  your  evenings  with  the 
best  company  of  Rome,  observing  their  manners  and  form- 
ing your  own ;  and  I  will  suppose  a  number  of  idle,  saun- 
tering, illiterate  English,  as  there  commonly  is  there,  living 
entirely  with  one  another,  supping,  drinking,  and  sitting  up 
late  at  each  other's  lodgings ;  commonly  in  riots  and  scrapes 
when  drunk,  and  never  in  good  company  when  sober.  I 
will  take  one  of  these  pretty  fellows,  and  give  you  the 
dialogue  between  him  and  yourself;  such  as,  I  dare  say,  it 
will  be  on  his  side;  and  such  as,  I  hope,  it  will  be  on 
yours :  — 

Englishman.  Will  you  come  and  breakfast  with  me  to- 
morrow? there  will  be  four  or  five  of  our  countrymen;  we 
have  provided  chaises,  and  we  will  drive  somewhere  out  of 
town  after  breakfast. 


208  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Stanhope.  I  am  very  sorry  I  cannot ;  but  I  am  obliged  to 
be  at  home  all  morning. 

Englishman.  Why,  then,  we  will  come  and  breakfast 
with  you. 

Stanhope.     I  can't  do  that  neither;  I  am  engaged. 

Englishman.     Well,  then,  let  it  be  the  next  day. 

Stanhope.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  it  can  be  no  day  in  the 
morning;  for  I  neither  go  out,  nor  see  anybody  at  home 
before  twelve. 

Englishman.  And  what  the  devil  do  you  do  with  your- 
self till  twelve  o'clock? 

Stanhope.     I  am  not  by  myself;  I  am  with  Mr.  Harte. 

Englishman.     Then  what  the    devil  do  you  do  with  him? 

Stanhope.  We  study  different  things ;  we  read,  we  con- 
verse. 

Englishman.  Very  pretty  amusement  indeed!  Are  you 
to  take  orders  then? 

Stanhope.     Yes,  my  father's  orders,   I  believe  I  must  take. 

Englishman.  Why  hast  thou  no  more  spirit,  than  to  mind 
an  old  fellow  a  thousand  miles  off? 

Stanhope.  If  I  don't  mind  his  orders  he  won't  mind  my 
draughts. 

Englishman.  What,  does  the  old  prig  threaten  then? 
threatened  folks  live  long;  never  mind  threats. 

Stanhope.  No,  I  can't  say  that  he  has  ever  threatened  me 
in  his  life ;  but  I  believe  I  had  best  not  provoke  him. 

Englishman.  Pooh !  you  would  have  one  angry  letter  from 
the  old  fellow,  and  there  would  be  an  end  of  it. 

Stanhope.  You  mistake  him  mightily ;  he  always  does 
more  than  he  says.  He  has  never  been  angry  with  me 
yet,  that  I  remember,  in  his  life;  but  if  I  were  to  provoke 
him,  I  am  sure  he  would  never  forgive  me;  he  would  be 
coolly  immovable,  and  I  might  beg  and  pray,  and  write  my 
heart  out  to  no  purpose. 

Englishman.  Why,  then,  he  is  an  old  dog,  that's  all  I  can 
say;  and  pray  are  you  to  obey  your  dry-nurse  too,  this 
same,  and  what's  his  name  —  Mr.  Harte? 

Stanhope.     Yes. 

Englishman.  So  he  stuffs  you  all  morning  with  Greek, 
and  Latin,  and  Logic,  and  all  that.  Egad  I  have  a  dry- 
ourse  too,  but  I  never  looked  into  a  book  with  him  in  my 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  209 

life ;  I  have  not  so  much  as  seen  the  face  of  him  this  week, 
and  don't  care  a  louse  if  I  never  see  it  again. 

Stanhope.  My  dry-nurse  never  desires  anything  of  me 
that  is  not  reasonable,  and  for  my  own  good;  and  therefore 
I  like  to  be  with  him. 

Englishman.  Very  sententious  and  edifying,  upon  my 
word !  at  this  rate  you  will  be  reckoned  a  very  good  young 
man. 

Stanhope.     Why,  that  will  do  me  no  harm. 

Englishman.  Will  you  be  with  us  to-morrow  in  the  even- 
ing, then  ?  We  shall  be  ten  with  you ;  and  I  have  got  some 
excellent  good  wine ;  and  we'll  be  very  merry. 

Stanhope.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  am 
engaged  for  all  the  evening,  to-morrow ;  first  at  Cardinal 
Albani's ;  and  then  to  sup  at  the  Venetian  Ambassadress's. 

Englishman.  How  the  devil  can  you  like  being  always 
with  these  foreigners?  I  never  go  among  them  with  all 
their  formalities  and  ceremonies.  I  am  never  easy  in  com- 
pany with  them,  and  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  am  ashamed. 

Stanhope.  I  am  neither  ashamed  nor  afraid ;  I  am  very 
easy  with  them;  they  are  very  easy  with  me;  I  get  the 
language,  and  I  see  their  characters,  by  conversing  with 
them ;  and  that  is  what  we  are  sent  abroad  for,  is  it  not  ? 

Englishman.  I  hate  your  modest  women's  company;  your 
women  of  fashion  as  they  call  'em ;  I  don't  know  what  to 
say  to  them,  for  my  part. 

Stanhope.     Have  you  ever  conversed  with  them? 

Englishman.  No;  I  never  conversed  with  them;  but  I 
have  been  sometimes  in  their  company,  though  much  against 
my  will. 

Stanhope.  But  at  least  they  have  done  you  no  hurt;  which 
is,  probably,  more  than  you  can  say  of  the  women  you  do 
converse  with. 

Englishman.  That's  true,  I  own  ;  but  for  all  that,  I  would 
rather  keep  company  with  my  surgeon  half  the  year,  than 
with  your  women  of  fashion  the  year  round. 

Stanhope.  Tastes  are  different,  you  know,  and  every  man 
follows  his  own. 

Englishman.  That's  true ;  but  thine's  a  devilish  odd  one, 
Stanhope.  All  morning  with  thy  dry-nurse;  all  the  evening 
in  formal  fine  company;  and  all  day  long  afraid  of  Old 
14 


2io  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

Daddy  in  England.  Thou  art  a  queer  fellow,  and  I  am 
afraid  there  is  nothing  to  be  made  of  thee. 

Stanhope.     I  am  afraid  so  too. 

Englishman.  Well,  then,  good  night  to  you ;  you  have  no 
objection,  I  hope,  to  my  being  drunk  to-night,  which  I 
certainly  will  be. 

Stanhope.  Not  in  the  least;  nor  to  your  being  sick  to- 
morrow, which  you  as  certainly  will  be ;  and  so  good  night, 
too. 

You  will  observe,  that  I  have  not  put  into  your  mouth 
those  good  arguments  which  upon  such  an  occasion  would, 
I  am  sure,  occur  to  you;  as  piety  and  affection  toward  me; 
regard  and  friendship  for  Mr.  Harte ;  respect  for  your  own 
moral  character,  and  for  all  the  relative  duties  of  man,  son, 
pupil,  and  citizen.  Such  solid  arguments  would  be  thrown 
away  upon  such  shallow  puppies.  Leave  them  to  their 
ignorance  and  to  their  dirty,  disgraceful  vices.  They  will 
severely  feel  the  effects  of  them,  when  it  will  be  too  late. 
Without  the  comfortable  refuge  of  learning,  and  with  all 
the  sickness  and  pains  of  a  ruined  stomach,  and  a  rotten 
carcass,  if  they  happen  to  arrive  at  old  age,  it  is  an  uneasy 
and  ignominious  one.  The  ridicule  which  such  fellows 
endeavor  to  throw  upon  those  who  are  not  like  them,  is, 
in  the  opinion  of  all  men  of  sense,  the  most  authentic 
panegyric.  Go  on,  then,  my  dear  child,  in  the  way  you 
are  in,  only  for  a  year  and  a  half  more:  that  is  all  I  ask 
of  you.  After  that,  I  promise  that  you  shall  be  your  own 
master,  and  that  I  will  pretend  to  no  other  title  than  that 
of  your  best  and  truest  friend.  You  shall  receive  advice, 
but  no  orders,  from  me ;  and  in  truth  you  will  want  no 
other  advice  but  such  as  youth  and  inexperience  must 
necessarily  require.  You  shall  certainly  want  nothing  that 
is  requisite,  not  only  for  your  conveniency,  but  also  for 
your  pleasures,  which  I  always  desire  shall  be  gratified. 
You  will  suppose  that  I  mean  the  pleasures  cTun  honnete 
homme. 

While  you  are  learning  Italian,  which  I  hope  you  do 
with  diligence,  pray  take  care  to  continue  your  German, 
which  you  may  have  frequent  opportunities  of  speaking.  I 
would  also  have  you  keep  up  your  knowledge  of  the  Jus 
Publicum  Imperil,  by  looking  over,  now  and  then,  those 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  211 

INESTIMABLE  MANUSCRIPTS  which  Sir  Charles  Williams,  who 
arrived  here  last  week,  assures  me  you  have  made  upon 
that  subject.  It  will  be  of  very  great  use  to  you,  when 
you  come  to  be  concerned  in  foreign  affairs;  as  you  shall 
be  (if  you  qualify  yourself  for  them)  younger  than  ever 
any  other  was:  I  mean  before  you  are  twenty.  Sir  Charles 
tells  me,  that  he  will  answer  for  your  learning;  and  that, 
he  believes,  you  will  acquire  that  address,  and  those  graces, 
which  are  so  necessary  to  give  it  its  full  lustre  and  value. 
But  he  confesses,  that  he  doubts  more  of  the  latter  than  of 
the  former.  The  justice  which  he  does  Mr.  Harte,  in  his 
panegyrics  of  him,  makes  me  hope  that  there  is  likewise  a 
great  deal  of  truth  in  his  encomiums  of  you.  Are  you 
pleased  with,  and  proud  of  the  reputation  which  you  have 
already  acquired?  Surely  you  are,  for  I  am  sure  I  am. 
Will  you  do  anything  to  lessen  or  forfeit  it?  Surely  you 
will  not.  And  will  you  not  do  all  you  can  to  extend  and 
increase  it?  Surely  you  will.  It  is  only  going  on  for  a 
a  year  and  a  half  longer,  as  you  have  gone  on  for  the  two 
years  last  past,  and  devoting  half  the  day  only  to  applica- 
tion; and  you  will  be  sure  to  make  the  earliest  figure  and 
fortune  in  the  world,  that  ever  man  made.  Adieu. 


LETTER    LXXXII 

LONDON,  September  22,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  If  I  had  faith  in  philters  and  love  potions, 
I  should  suspect  that  you  had  given  Sir  Charles 
Williams  some,  by  the  manner  in  which  he  speaks 
of  you,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  everybody  else.  I  will  not 
repeat  to  you  what  he  says  of  the  extent  and  correctness 
of  your  knowledge,  as  it  might  either  make  you  vain,  or 
persuade  you  that  you  had  already  enough  of  what  nobody 
can  have  too  much.  You  will  easily  imagine  how  many 
questions  I  asked,  and  how  narrowly  I  sifted  him  upon 
your  subject ;  he  answered  me,  and  I  dare  say  with  truth, 
just  as  I  could  have  wished ;  till  satisfied  entirely  with  his 
accounts  of  your  character  and  learning,  I  inquired  into 
other  matters,  intrinsically  indeed  of  less  consequence,  but 


212  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

still  of  great  consequence  to  every  man,  and  of  more  to  you 
than  to  almost  any  man:  I  mean,  your  address,  manners, 
and  air.  To  these  questions,  the  same  truth  which  he  had 
observed  before,  obliged  him  to  give  me  much  less  satis- 
factory answers.  And  as  he  thought  himself,  in  friendship 
both  to  you  and  me,  obliged  to  tell  me  the  disagreeable  as 
well  as  the  agreeable  truths,  upon  the  same  principle  I 
think  myself  obliged  to  repeat  them  to  you. 

He  told  me  then,  that  in  company  you  were  frequently 
most  PROVOKINGLY  inattentive,  absent,  and  distrait;  that 
you  came  into  a  room,  and  presented  yourself,  very  awk- 
wardly; that  at  table  you  constantly  threw  down  knives, 
forks,  napkins,  bread,  etc.,  and  that  you  neglected  your 
person  and  dress,  to  a  degree  unpardonable  at  any  age,  and 
rmuch  more  so  at  yours. 

These  things,  howsoever  immaterial  they  may  seem  to  peo- 
ple who  do  not  know  the  world,  and  the  nature  of  man- 
kind, give  me,  who  know  them  to  be  exceedingly  material, 
very  great  concern.  I  have  long  distrusted  you,  and  there- 
fore frequently  admonished  you,  upon  these  articles ;  and  I 
tell  you  plainly,  that  I  shall  not  be  easy  till  I  hear  a  very 
different  account  of  them.  I  know  no  one  thing  more  offen- 
sive to  a  company  than  that  inattention  and  DISTRACTION. 
It  is  showing  them  the  utmost  contempt ;  and  people  never 
forgive  contempt.  No  man  is  distrait  with  the  man  he 
fears,  or  the  woman  he  loves ;  which  is  a  proof  that  every 
man  can  get  the  better  of  that  DISTRACTION,  when  he 
thinks  it  worth  his  while  to  do  so ;  and,  take  my  word  for 
it,  it  is  always  worth  his  while.  For  my  own  part,  I 
would  rather  be  in  company  with  a  dead  man,  than  with 
an  absent  one ;  for  if  the  dead  man  gives  me  no  pleasure, 
at  least  he  shows  me  no  contempt ;  whereas,  the  absent 
man,  silently  indeed,  but  very  plainly,  tells  me  that  he  does 
not  think  me  worth  his  attention.  Besides,  can  an  absent 
man  make  any  observations  upon  the  characters,  customs, 
and  manners  of  the  company?  No.  He  may  be  in  the 
best  companies  all  his  lifetime  (if  they  will  admit  him, 
which,  if  I  were  they,  I  would  not)  and  never  be  one  jot 
the  wiser.  I  never  will  converse  with  an  absent  man ;  one 
may  as  well  talk  to  a  deaf  one.  It  is,  in  truth,  a  practical 
blunder,  to  address  ourselves  to  a  man  who  we  see  plainly 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  213 

neither  hears,  minds,  or  understands  us.  Moreover,  I  aver 
that  no  man  is,  in  any  degree,  fit  for  either  business  or  con- 
versation, who  cannot  and  does  not  direct  and  command 
his  attention  to  the  present  object,  be  that  what  it  will. 
You  know,  by  experience,  that  I  grudge  no  expense  in 
your  education,  but  I  will  positively  not  keep  you  a  Flap- 
per. You  may  read,  in  Dr.  Swift,  the  description  of  these 
flappers,  and  the  use  they  were  of  to  your  friends  the  Lapu- 
tans ;  whose  minds  (Gulliver  says)  are  so  taken  up  with 
intense  speculations,  that  they  neither  can  speak  nor  attend 
to  the  discourses  of  others,  without  being  roused  by  some 
external  taction  upon  the  organs  of  speech  and  hearing; 
for  which  reason,  those  people  who  are  able  to  afford  it, 
always  keep  a  flapper  in  their  family,  as  one  of  their  do- 
mestics ;  nor  ever  walk  about,  or  make  visits  without  him. 
This  flapper  is  likewise  employed  diligently  to  attend  his 
master  in  his  walks ;  and,  upon  occasion,  to  give  a  soft 
flap  upon  his  eyes,  because  he  is  always  so  wrapped  up  in 
cogitation,  that  he  is  in  manifest  danger  of  falling  down 
every  precipice,  and  bouncing  his  head  against  every  post, 
and,  in  the  streets,  of  jostling  others,  or  being  jostled  into 
the  kennel  himself.  If  CHRISTIAN  will  undertake  this  prov- 
ince into  the  bargain,  with  all  my  heart ;  but  I  will  not 
allow  him  any  increase  of  wages  upon  that  score.  In  short, 
I  give  you  fair  warning,  that,  when  we  meet,  if  you  are 
absent  in  mind,  I  will  soon  be  absent  in  body  ;  for  it  will 
be  impossible  for  me  to  stay  in  the  room ;  and  if  at  table 
you  throw  down  your  knife,  plate,  bread,  etc.,  and  hack 
the  wing  of  a  chicken  for  half  an  hour,  without  being  able 
to  cut  it  off,  and  your  sleeve  all  the  time  in  another  dish, 
I  must  rise  from  the  table  to  escape  the  fever  you  would 
certainly  give  me.  Good  God!  how  I  should  be  shocked,  if 
you  came  into  my  room,  for  the  first  time,  with  two  left  legs, 
presenting  yourself  with  all  the  graces  and  dignity  of  a 
tailor,  and  your  clothes  hanging  upon  you,  like  those  in 
Monmouth  street,  upon  tenter-hooks!  whereas,  I  expect, 
nay,  require,  to  see  you  present  yourself  with  the  easy  and 
genteel  air  of  a  man  of  fashion,  who  has  kept  good  com- 
pany. I  expect  you  not  only  well  dressed  but  very  well 
dressed ;  I  expect  a  gracefulness  in  all  your  motions,  and 
something  particularly  engaging  in  your  address.  All  this  I 


214  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

expect,  and  all  this  it  is  in  your  power,  by  care  and  atten- 
tion, to  make  me  find ;  but  to  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  if  I 
do  not  find  it,  we  shall  not  converse  very  much  together ;  for 
I  cannot  stand  inattention  and  awkwardness ;  it  would  en- 
danger my  health.  You  have  often  seen,  and  I  have  as 
often  made  you  observe  L — 's  distinguished  inattention  and 
awkwardness.  Wrapped  up,  like  a  Laputan,  in  intense 
thought,  and  possibly  sometimes  in  no  thought  at  all 
(which,  I  believe,  is  very  often  the  case  with  absent  people), 
he  does  not  know  his  most  intimate  acquaintance  by  sight, 
or  answers  them  as  if  he  were  at  cross  purposes.  He  leaves 
his  hat  in  one  room,  his  sword  in  another,  and  would  leave 
his  shoes  in  a  third,  if  his  buckles,  though  awry,  did  not 
save  them  :  his  legs  and  arms,  by  his  awkward  management 
of  them,  seem  to  have  undergone  the  question  extraor' 
dinaire;  and  his  head,  always  hanging  upon  one  or 
other  of  his  shoulders,  seems  to  have  received  the  first 
stroke  upon  a  block.  I  sincerely  value  and  esteem  him 
for  his  parts,  learning,  and  virtue ;  but,  for  the  soul  of  me, 
I  cannot  love  him  in  company.  This  will  be  universally 
the  case,  in  common  life,  of  every  inattentive,  awkward 
man,  let  his  real  merit  and  knowledge  be  ever  so  great. 
When  I  was  of  your  age,  I  desired  to  shine,  as  far  as  I 
was  able,  in  every  part  of  life ;  and  was  as  attentive  to 
my  manners,  my  dress,  and  my  air,  in  company  of  even- 
ings, as  to  my  books  and  my  tutor  in  the  mornings.  A 
young  fellow  should  be  ambitious  to  shine  in  everything; 
and,  of  the  two,  always  rather  overdo  than  underdo.  These 
things  are  by  no  means  trifles  :  they  are  of  infinite  conse- 
quence to  those  who  are  to  be  thrown  into  the  great  world, 
and  who  would  make  a  figure  or  a  fortune  in  it.  It  is  not 
sufficient  to  deserve  well ;  one  must  please  well  too.  Awk- 
ward, disagreeable  merit  will  never  carry  anybody  far. 
Wherever  you  find  a  good  dancing-master,  pray  let  him 
put  you  upon  your  haunches;  not  so  much  for  the  sake 
of  dancing,  as  for  coming  into  a  room,  and  presenting 
yourself  genteelly  and  gracefully.  Women,  whom  you 
ought  to  endeavor  to  please,  cannot  forgive  vulgar  and 
awkward  air  and  gestures  ;  il  leur  faut  du  brillant.  The 
generality  of  men  are  pretty  like  them,  and  are  equally 
taken  by  the  same  exterior  graces. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  215 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  received  the  diamond  buck- 
les safe;  all  I  desire  in  return  for  them  is,  that  they  may 
be  buckled  even  upon  your  feet,  and  that  your  stockings 
may  not  hide  them.  I  should  be  sorry  that  you  were  an 
egregious  fop;  but,  I  protest,  that  of  the  two,  I  would 
rather  have  you  a  fop  than  a  sloven.  I  think  negligence 
in  my  own  dress,  even  at  my  age,  when  certainly  I  expect 
no  advantages  from  my  dress,  would  be  indecent  with  re- 
gard to  others.  I  have  done  with  fine  clothes;  but  I  will 
have  my  plain  clothes  fit  me,  and  made  like  other  people's. 
In  the  evenings,  I  recommend  to  you  the  company  of 
women  of  fashion,  who  have  a  right  to  attention  and  will 
be  paid  it.  Their  company  will  smooth  your  manners,  and 
give  you  a  habit  of  attention  and  respect,  of  which  you 
will  find  the  advantage  among  men. 

My  plan  for  you,  from  the  beginning,  has  been  to  make 
you  shine  equally  in  the  learned  and  in  the  polite  world ; 
the  former  part  is  almost  completed  to  my  wishes,  and  will, 
I  am  persuaded,  in  a  little  time  more,  be  quite  so.  The 
latter  part  is  still  in  your  power  to  complete ;  and  I  flatter 
myself  that  you  will  do  it,  or  else  the  former  part  will 
avail  you  very  little ;  especially  in  your  department,  where 
the  exterior  address  and  graces  do  half  the  business;  they 
must  be  the  harbingers  of  your  merit,  or  your  merit  will 
be  very  coldly  received ;  all  can,  and  do  judge  of  the  former, 
few  of  the  latter. 

Mr.  Harte  tells  me  that  you  have  grown  very  much  since 
your  illness ;  if  you  get  up  to  five  feet  ten,  or  even  nine 
inches,  your  figure  will  probably  be  a  good  one ;  and  if  well 
dressed  and  genteel,  will  probably  please ;  which  is  a  much 
greater  advantage  to  a  man  than  people  commonly  think. 
Lord  Bacon  calls  it  a  letter  of  recommendation. 

I  would  wish  you  to  be  the  omnis  homo,  Phomme  universel. 
You  are  nearer  it,  if  you  please,  than  ever  anybody  was  at 
your  age ;  and  if  you  will  but,  for  the  course  of  this  next 
year  only,  exert  your  whole  attention  to  your  studies  in  the 
morning,  and  to  your  address,  manners,  air  and  tournure 
in  the  evenings,  you  will  be  the  man  I  wish  you,  and  the 
man  that  is  rarely  seen. 

Our  letters  go,  at  best,  so  irregularly,  and  so  often  mis- 
carry totally,  that  for  greater  security  I  repeat  the  same 


216  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

things.  So,  though  I  acknowledged  by  last  post  Mr.  Harte's 
letter  of  the  8th  September,  N.  S.,  I  acknowledge  it  again 
by  this  to  you.  If  this  should  find  you  still  at  Verona,  let 
it  inform  you  that  I  wish  you  would  set  out  soon  for 
Naples;  unless  Mr.  Harte  should  think  it  better  for  you  to 
stay  at  Verona,  or  any  other  place  on  this  side  Rome,  till 
you  go  there  for  the  Jubilee.  Nay,  if  he  likes  it  better,  I 
am  very  willing  that  you  should  go  directly  from  Verona 
to  Rome ;  for  you  cannot  have  too  much  of  Rome,  whether 
upon  account  of  the  language,  the  curiosities,  or  the  com- 
pany. My  only  reason  for  mentioning  Naples,  is  for  the 
sake  of  the  climate,  upon  account  of  your  health ;  but  if 
Mr.  Harte  thinks  that  your  health  is  now  so  well  restored 
as  to  be  above  climate,  he  may  steer  your  course  wherever 
he  thinks  proper:  and,  for  aught  I  know,  your  going  di- 
rectly to  Rome,  and  consequently  staying  there  so  much  the 
longer,  may  be  as  well  as  anything  else.  I  think  you  and 
I  cannot  put  our  affairs  in  better  hands  than  in  Mr.  Harte's  ; 
and  I  will  stake  his  infallibility  against  the  Pope's,  with 
some  odds  on  his  side.  A  propos  of  the  Pope:  remember 
to  be  presented  to  him  before  you  leave  Rome,  and  go 
through  the  necessary  ceremonies  for  it,  whether  of  kissing 
his  slipper  or  his  b — h;  for  I  would  never  deprive  myself 
of  anything  that  I  wanted  to  do  or  see,  by  refusing  to 
comply  with  an  established  custom.  When  I  was  in  Cath- 
olic countries,  I  never  declined  kneeling  in  their  churches 
at  the  elevation,  nor  elsewhere,  when  the  Host  went  by. 
It  is  a  complaisance  due  to  the  custom  of  the  place,  and  by 
no  means,  as  some  silly  people  have  imagined,  an  implied 
approbation  of  their  doctrine.  Bodily  attitudes  and  situa- 
tions are  things  so  very  indifferent  in  themselves,  that  I 
would  quarrel  with  nobody  about  them.  It  may,  indeed, 
be  improper  for  Mr.  Harte  to  pay  that  tribute  of  com- 
plaisance, upon  account  of  his  character. 

This  letter  is  a  very  long,  and  possibly  a  very  tedious 
one;  but  my  anxiety  for  your  perfection  is  so  great,  and 
particularly  at  this  critical  and  decisive  period  of  your  life, 
that  I  am  only  afraid  of  omitting,  but  never  of  repeating,  or 
dwelling  too  long  upon  anything  that  I  think  may  be  of  the 
least  use  to  you.  Have  the  same  anxiety  for  yourself,  that 
I  have  for  you,  and  all  will  do  well.  Adieu!  my  dear  child. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  217 


LETTER   LXXXIII 

LONDON,  September  27,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  A  vulgar,  ordinary  way  of  thinking,  act- 
ing, or  speaking,  implies  a  low  education,  and  a  habit 
of  low  company.  Young  people  contract  it  at  school, 
or  among  servants,  with  whom  they  are  too  often  used  to 
converse;  but  after  they  frequent  good  company,  they  must 
want  attention  and  observation  very  much,  if  they  do  not 
lay  it  quite  aside ;  and,  indeed,  if  they  do  not,  good  com- 
pany will  be  very  apt  to  lay  them  aside.  The  various 
kinds  of  vulgarisms  are  infinite;  I  cannot  pretend  to  point 
them  out  to  you;  but  I  will  give  some  samples,  by  which 
you  may  guess  at  the  rest. 

A  vulgar  man  is  captious  and  jealous ;  eager  and  impet- 
uous about  trifles.  He  suspects  himself  to  be  slighted,  thinks 
everything  that  is  said  meant  at  him  :  if  the  company  hap- 
pens to  laugh,  he  is  persuaded  they  laugh  at  him ;  he  grows 
angry  and  testy,  says  something  very  impertinent,  and 
draws  himself  into  a  scrape,  by  showing  what  he  calls  a 
proper  spirit,  and  asserting  himself.  A  man  of  fashion  does 
not  suppose  himself  to  be  either  the  sole  or  principal  object 
of  the  thoughts,  looks,  or  words  of  the  company ;  and  never 
suspects  that  he  is  either  slighted  or  laughed  at,  unless  he 
is  conscious  that  he  deserves  it.  And  if  (which  very  seldom 
happens)  the  company  is  absurd  or  ill-bred  enough  to  do 
either,  he  does  not  care  twopence,  unless  the  insult  be  so 
gross  and  plain  as  to  require  satisfaction  of  another  kind. 
As  he  is  above  trifles,  he  is  never  vehement  and  eager 
about  them ;  and,  wherever  they  are  concerned,  rather  ac- 
quiesces than  wrangles.  A  vulgar  man's  conversation  al- 
ways savors  strongly  of  the  lowness  of  his  education  and 
company.  It  turns  cWefly  upon  his  domestic  affairs,  his 
servants,  the  excellent  order  he  keeps  in  his  own  family, 
and  the  little  anecdotes  of  the  neighborhood ;  all  which  he 
relates  with  emphasis,  as  interesting  matters.  He  is  a  man 
gossip. 

Vulgarism  in  language  is  the  next  and  distinguishing 
characteristic  of  bad  company  and  a  bad  education.  A 


2i8  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

man  of  fashion  avoids  nothing  with  more  care  than  that. 
Proverbial  expressions  and  trite  sayings  are  the  flowers  of 
the  rhetoric  of  a  vulgar  man.  Would  he  say  that  men  dif- 
fer in  their  tastes  ;  he  both  supports  and  adorns  that  opinion 
by  the  good  old  saying,  as  he  respectfully  calls  it,  that 

WHAT    IS  ONE    MAN'S    MEAT,   IS    ANOTHER    MAN'S    POISON.       If 

anybody  attempts  being  SMART,  as  he  calls  it,  upon  him, 
he  gives  them  TIT  FOR  TAT,  aye,  that  he  does.  He  has 
always  some  favorite  word  for  the  time  being;  which,  for 
the  sake  of  using  often,  he  commonly  abuses.  Such  as 
VASTLY  angry,  VASTLY  kind,  VASTLY  handsome,  and  VASTLY 
ugly.  Even  his  pronunciation  of  proper  words  carries  the 
mark  of  the  beast  along  with  it.  He  calls  the  earth 
YEARTH  ;  he  is  OBLEIGED,  not  OBLIGED  to  you.  He  goes 
TO  WARDS,  and  not  TOWARDS,  such  a  place.  He  some- 
times affects  hard  words,  by  way  of  ornament,  which  he 
always  mangles  like  a  learned  woman.  A  man  of  fashion 
never  has  recourse  to  proverbs  and  vulgar  aphorisms ;  uses 
neither  favorite  words  nor  hard  words ;  but  takes  great  care 
to  speak  very  correctly  and  grammatically,  and  to  pro- 
nounce properly  ;  that  is,  according  to  the  usage  of  the  best 
companies. 

An  awkward  address,  ungraceful  attitudes  and  actions, 
and  a  certain  left-handedness  (if  I  may  use  that  word), 
loudly  proclaim  low  education  and  low  company ;  for  it  is 
impossible  to  suppose  that  a  man  can  have  frequented  good 
company,  without  having  catched  something,  at  least,  of 
their  air  and  motions.  A  new  raised  man  is  distinguished 
in  a  regiment  by  his  awkwardness  ;  but  he  must  be  impene- 
trably dull,  if,  in  a  month  or  two's  time,  he  cannot  per- 
form at  least  the  common  manual  exercise,  and  look  like  a 
soldier.  The  very  accoutrements  of  a  man  of  fashion  are 
grievous  encumbrances  to  a  vulgar  man.  He  is  at  a  loss 
what  to  do  with  his  hat,  when  it  is  not  upon  his  head ; 
his  cane  (if  unfortunately  he  wears  one)  is  at  perpetual 
war  with  every  cup  of  tea  or  coffee  he  drinks;  destroys 
them  first,  and  then  accompanies  them  in  their  fall.  His 
sword  is  formidable  only  to  his  own  legs,  which  would 
possibly  carry  him  fast  enough  out  of  the  way  of  any 
sword  but  his  own.  His  clothes  fit  him  so  ill,  and  con- 
strain him  so  much,  that  he  seems  rather  their  prisoner 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  219 

than  their  proprietor.  He  presents  himself  in  company  like 
a  criminal  in  a  court  of  justice;  his  very  air  condemns  him; 
and  people  of  fashion  will  no  more  connect  themselves  with 
the  one,  than  people  of  character  will  with  the  other.  This 
repulse  drives  and  sinks  him  into  low  company;  a  gulf 
from  whence  no  man,  after  a  certain  age,  ever  emerged. 

Les  manures  nobles  et  aisees,  la  tournure  d'un  homme  de 
condition,  le  ton  de  la  bonne  compagnie,  les  graces,  le  jeune 
sais  quoi,  qui plait,  are  as  necessary  to  adorn  and  introduce 
your  intrinsic  merit  and  knowledge,  as  the  polish  is  to  the 
diamond;  which,  without  that  polish,  would  never  be  worn, 
whatever  it  might  weigh.  Do  not  imagine  that  these 
accomplishments  are  only  useful  with  women ;  they  are 
much  more  so  with  men.  In  a  public  assembly,  what  an 
advantage  has  a  graceful  speaker,  with  genteel  motions,  a 
handsome  figure,  and  a  liberal  air,  over  one  who  shall  speak 
full  as  much  good  sense,  but  destitute  of  these  ornaments? 
In  business,  how  prevalent  are  the  graces,  how  detrimental 
is  the  want  of  them?  By  the  help  of  these  I  have  known 
some  men  refuse  favors  less  offensively  than  others  granted 
them.  The  utility  of  them  in  courts  and  negotiations  is 
inconceivable.  You  gain  the  hearts,  and  consequently  the 
secrets,  of  nine  in  ten,  that  you  have  to  do  with,  in  spite 
even  of  their  prudence ;  which  will,  nine  times  in  ten,  be 
the  dupe  of  their  hearts  and  of  their  senses.  Consider  the 
importance  of  these  things  as  they  deserve,  and  you  will 
not  lose  one  minute  in  the  pursuit  of  them. 

You  are  traveling  now  in  a  country  once  so  famous  both 
for  arts  and  arms,  that  (however  degenerate  at  present)  it 
still  deserves  your  attention  and  reflection.  View  it  there- 
fore with  care,  compare  its  former  with  its  present  state, 
and  examine  into  the  causes  of  its  rise  and  its  decay.  Con- 
sider it  classically  and  politically,  and  do  not  run  through 
it,  as  too  many  of  your  young  countrymen  do,  musically, 
and  (to  use  a  ridiculous  word)  KNICK-KNACKICALLY.  No 
piping  nor  fiddling,  I  beseech  you ;  no  days  lost  in  poring 
upon  almost  imperceptible  intaglios  and  cameos:  and  do 
not  become  a  virtuoso  of  small  wares.  Form  a  taste  of 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  if  you  please,  by  a 
careful  examination  of  the  works  of  the  best  ancient  and 
modern  artists ;  those  are  liberal  arts,  and  a  real  taste  and 


220  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

knowledge  of  them  become  a  man  of  fashion  very  well. 
But,  beyond  certain  bounds,  the  man  of  taste  ends,  and  the 
frivolous  virtuoso  begins. 

Your  friend  Mendes,  the  good  Samaritan,  dined  with  me 
yesterday.  He  has  more  good-nature  and  generosity  than 
parts.  However,  I  will  show  him  all  the  civilities  that  his 
kindness  to  you  so  justly  deserves.  He  tells  me  that  you 
are  taller  than  I  am,  which  I  am  very  glad  of :  I  desire 
that  you  may  excel  me  in  everything  else  too ;  and,  far 
from  repining,  I  shall  rejoice  at  your  superiority.  He  com- 
mends your  friend  Mr.  Stevens  extremely  ;  of  whom  too  I 
have  heard  so  good  a  character  from  other  people,  that  I 
am  very  glad  of  your  connection  with  him.  It  may  prove 
of  use  to  you  hereafter.  When  you  meet  with  such  sort  of 
Englishmen  abroad,  who,  either  from  their  parts  or  their 
rank,  are  likely  to  make  a  figure  at  home,  I  would  advise 
you  to  cultivate  them,  and  get  their  favorable  testimony  of 
you  here,  especially  those  who  are  to  return  to  England 
before  you.  Sir  Charles  Williams  has  puffed  you  (as  the 
mob  call  it)  here  extremely.  If  three  or  four  more  people 
of  parts  do  the  same,  before  you  come  back,  your  first 
appearance  in  London  will  be  to  great  advantage.  Many 
people  do,  and  indeed  ought,  to  take  things  upon  trust ; 
many  more  do,  who  need  not;  and  few  dare  dissent  from 
an  established  opinion.  Adieu  ! 


LETTER    LXXXIV 

LONDON,  October  2,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  received  by  the  last  post  your  letter  of  the 
22d    September,   N.  S.,  but  I  have    not  received  that 
from  Mr.  Harte  to  which  you  refer,    and    which  you 
say  contained  your  reasons  for  leaving  Verona,  and  return- 
ing   to  Venice;     so    that    I    am   entirely    ignorant    of   them. 
Indeed  the  irregularity  and  negligence  of    the  post  provoke 
me,  as    they   break    the    thread   of   the  accounts    I    want  to 
receive  from  you,  and  of  the  instructions  and  orders  which 
I  send  you,  almost  every  post.     Of   these  last  twenty  posts 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  221 

I  am  sure  that  I  have  wrote  eighteen,  either  to  you  or  to 
Mr.  Harte,  and  it  does  not  appear  by  your  letter,  that  all 
or  even  any  of  my  letters  have  been  received.  I  desire  for 
the  future,  that  both  you  and  Mr.  Harte  will  constantly,  in 
your  letters,  mention  the  dates  of  mine.  Had  it  not  been 
for  their  miscarriage,  you  would  not  have  been  in  the  uncer- 
tainty you  seem  to  be  in  at  present,  with  regard  to  your 
future  motions.  Had  you  received  my  letters,  you  would 
have  been  by  this  time  at  Naples :  but  we  must  now  take 
things  where  they  are. 

Upon  the  receipt,  then,  of  this  letter,  you  will  as  soon 
as  conveniently  you  can,  set  out  for  Rome;  where  you  will 
not  arrive  too  long  before  the  Jubilee,  considering  the 
difficulties  of  getting  lodgings,  and  other  accommodations 
there  at  this  time.  I  leave  the  choice  of  the  route  to  you  ; 
but  I  do  by  no  means  intend  that  you  should  leave  Rome 
after  the  Jubilee,  as  you  seem  to  hint  in  your  letter :  on 
the  contrary,  I  will  have  Rome  your  headquarters  for  six 
months  at  least;  till  you  shall  have,  in  a  manner,  acquired 
the  Jus  Civitatis  there.  More  things  are  to  be  seen  and 
learned  there,  than  in  any  other  town  in  Europe ;  there 
are  the  best  masters  to  instruct,  and  the  best  companies  to 
polish  you.  In  the  spring  you  may  make  (if  you  please) 
frequent  excursions  to  Naples ;  but  Rome  must  still  be 
your  headquarters,  till  the  heats  of  June  drive  you  from 
thence  to  some  other  place  in  Italy,  which  we  shall  think 
of  by  that  time.  As  to  the  expense  which  you  mention,  I 
do  not  regard  it  in  the  least ;  from  your  infancy  to  this 
day,  I  never  grudged  any  expense  in  your  education,  and 
still  less  do  it  now,  that  it  is  become  more  important  and 
decisive.  I  attend  to  the  objects  of  your  expenses,  but  not 
to  the  sums.  I  will  certainly  not  pay  one  shilling  for  your 
losing  your  nose,  your  money,  or  your  reason;  that  is,  I 
will  not  contribute  to  women,  gaming,  and  drinking.  But 
I  will  most  cheerfully  supply,  not  only  every  necessary, 
but  every  decent  expense  you  can  make.  I  do  not  care 
what  the  best  masters  cost.  I  would  have  you  as  well 
dressed,  lodged,  and  attended,  as  any  reasonable  man  of 
fashion  is  in  his  travels.  I  would  have  you  have  that 
pocket-money  that  should  enable  you  to  make  the  proper 
expense  cTun  honnete  homme.  In  short,  I  bar  no  expense, 


222  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

that  has  neither  vice  nor  folly  for  its  object;  and  under 
those  two  reasonable  restrictions,  draw,  and  welcome. 

As  for  Turin,  you  may  go  there  hereafter,  as  a  traveler, 
for  a  month  or  two ;  but  you  cannot  conveniently  reside 
there  as  an  academician,  for  reasons  which  I  have  formerly 
communicated  to  Mr.  Harte,  and  which  Mr.  Villettes,  since 
his  return  here,  has  shown  me  in  a  still  stronger  light  than 
he  had  done  by  his  letters  from  Turin,  of  which  I  sent  copies 
to  Mr.  Harte,  though  probably  he  never  received  them. 

After  you  have  left  Rome,  Florence  is  one  of  the  places 
with  which  you  should  be  thoroughly  acquainted.  I  know 
that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  gaming  there ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  there  are  in  every  place  some  people  whose  fortunes 
are  either  too  small,  or  whose  understandings  are  too  good 
to  allow  them  to  play  for  anything  above  trifles ;  and  with 
those  people  you  will  associate  yourself,  if  you  have  not 
(as  I  am  assured  you  have  not,  in  the  least)  the  spirit  of 
gaming  in  you.  Moreover,  at  suspected  places,  such  as 
Florence,  Turin,  and  Paris,  I  shall  be  more  attentive  to 
your  draughts,  and  such  as  exceed  a  proper  and  handsome 
expense  will  not  be  answered;  for  I  can  easily  know  whether 
you  game  or  not  without  being  told. 

Mr.  Harte  will  determine  your  route  to  Rome  as  he 
shall  think  best ;  whether  along  the  coast  of  the  Adriatic, 
or  that  of  the  Mediterranean,  it  is  equal  to  me;  but  you 
will  observe  to  come  back  a  different  way  from  that  you 
went. 

Since  your  health  is  so  well  restored,  I  am  not  sorry 
that  you  have  returned  to  Venice,  for  I  love  capitals. 
Everything  is  best  at  capitals ;  the  best  masters,  the  best 
companions,  and  the  best  manners.  Many  other  places  are 
worth  seeing,  but  capitals  only  are  worth  residing  at.  I 
am  very  glad  that  Madame  Capello  received  you  so  well. 
Monsieur  I  was  sure  would:  pray  assure  them  both  of  my  re- 
spects, and  of  my  sensibility  of  their  kindness  to  you.  Their 
house  will  be  a  very  good  one  for  you  at  Rome ;  and  I  would 
advise  you  to  be  domestic  in  it  if  you  can.  But  Madame, 
I  can  tell  you,  requires  great  attentions.  Madame  Micheli 
has  written  a  very  favorable  account  of  you  to  my  friend 
the  Abb6  Grossa  Testa,  in  a  letter  which  he  showed  me, 
and  in  which  there  are  so  many  civil  things  to  myself,  that 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  223 

I  would  wish  to  tell  her  how  much  I  think  myself  obliged 
to  her.  I  approve  very  much  of  the  allotment  of  your 
time  at  Venice;  pray  go  on  so  for  a  twelvemonth  at  least, 
wherever  you  are.  You  will  find  your  own  account  in  it. 

I  like  your  last  letter,  which  gives  me  an  account  of 
yourself,  and  your  own  transactions ;  for  though  I  do  not 
recommend  the  EGOTISM  to  you,  with  regard  to  anybody 
else,  I  desire  that  you  will  use  it  with  me,  and  with  me 
only.  I  interest  myself  in  all  that  you  do ;  and  as  yet 
(excepting  Mr.  Harte)  nobody  else  does.  He  must  of 
course  know  all,  and  I  desire  to  know  a  great  deal. 

I  am  glad  you  have  received,  and  that  you  like  the  dia- 
mond buckles.  I  am  very  willing  that  you  should  make,  but 
very  unwilling  that  you  should  CUT  a  figure  with  them  at 
the  Jubilee ;  the  CUTTING  A  FIGURE  being  the  very  lowest 
vulgarism  in  the  English  language ;  and  equal  in  elegancy 
to  Yes,  my  Lady,  and  No,  my  Lady.  The  word  VAST  and 
VASTLY,  you  will  have  found  by  my  former  letter  that  I 
had  proscribed  out  of  the  diction  of  a  gentleman,  unless 
in  their  proper  signification  of  SIZE  and  BULK.  Not  only 
in  language,  but  in  everything  else,  take  great  care  that 
the  first  impressions  you  give  of  yourself  may  be  not 
only  favorable,  but  pleasing,  engaging,  nay,  seducing. 
They  are  often  decisive ;  I  confess  they  are  a  good  deal 
so  with  me :  and  I  cannot  wish  for  further  acquaint- 
ance with  a  man  whose  first  abord  and  address  dis- 
please me. 

So  many  of  my  letters  have  miscarried,  and  I  know  so  lit- 
tle which,  that  I  am  forced  to  repeat  the  same  thing  over  and 
over  again  eventually.  This  is  one.  I  have  wrote  twice 
to  Mr.  Harte,  to  have  your  picture  drawn  in  miniature, 
while  you  were  at  Venice ;  and  send  it  me  in  a  letter :  it 
is  all  one  to  me  whether  in  enamel  or  in  water-colors, 
provided  it  is  but  very  like  you.  I  would  have  you  drawn 
exactly  as  you  are,  and  in  no  whimsical  dress  :  and  I  lay 
more  stress  upon  the  likeness  of  the  picture,  than  upon 
the  taste  and  skill  of  the  painter.  If  this  be  not  already 
done,  I  desire  that  you  will  have  it  done  forthwith  before  you 
leave  Venice ;  and  inclose  it  in  a  letter  to  me,  which  letter,  for 
greater  security,  I  would  have  you  desire  Sir  James  Gray 
to  inclose  in  his  packet  to  the  office  ;  as  I,  for  the  same 


224  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

reason,  send  this  under  his  cover.  If  the  picture  be  done 
upon  vellum,  it  will  be  the  most  portable.  Send  me,  at 
the  same  time,  a  thread  of  silk  of  your  own  length  exactly. 
I  am  solicitous  about  your  figure  ;  convinced,  by  a  thou- 
sand instances,  that  a  good  one  is  a  real  advantage.  Mens 
sana  in  corpore  sano,  is  the  first  and  greatest  blessing.  I 
would  add  et  pulchro,  to  complete  it.  May  you  have  that 
and  every  other!  Adieu. 

Have  you  received  my  letters  of  recommendation  to  Car- 
dinal Albani  and  the  Duke  de  Nivernois,  at  Rome? 


LETTER     LXXXV 

LONDON,  October  9,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  If  this  letter  finds  you  at  all,  of  which  I  am 
very  doubtful,  it  will  find  you  at  Venice,  preparing 
for  your  journey  to  Rome ;  which,  by  my  last  letter 
to  Mr.  Harte,  I  advised  you  to  make  along  the  coast  of  the 
Adriatic,  through  Rimini,  Loretto,  Ancona,  etc.,  places  that 
are  all  worth  seeing,  but  not  worth  staying  at.  And  such 
I  reckon  all  places  where  the  eyes  only  are  employed.  Re- 
mains of  antiquity,  public  buildings,  paintings,  sculptures, 
etc.,  ought  to  be  seen,  and  that  with  a  proper  degree  of 
attention;  but  this  is  soon  done,  for  they  are  only  outsides. 
It  is  not  so  with  more  important  objects;  the  insides  of 
which  must  be  seen;  and  they  require  and  deserve  much 
more  attention.  The  characters,  the  heads,  and  the  hearts 
of  men,  are  the  useful  science  of  which  I  would  have  you 
perfect  master.  That  science  is  best  taught  and  best  learned 
in  capitals,  where  every  human  passion  has  its  object,  and 
exerts  all  its  force  or  all  its  art  in  the  pursuit.  I  believe 
there  is  no  place  in  the  world,  where  every  passion  is  busier, 
appears  in  more  shapes,  and  is  conducted  with  more  art, 
than  at  Rome.  Therefore,  when  you  are  there,  do  not 
imagine  that  the  Capitol,  the  Vatican,  and  the  Pantheon,  are 
the  principal  objects  of  your  curiosity.  But  for  one  minute 
that  you  bestow  upon  those,  employ  ten  days  in  informing 
yourself  of  the  nature  of  that  government,  the  rise  and 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  225 

decay  of  the  papal  power,  the  politics  of  that  court,  the 
Brigues  of  the  cardinals,  the  tricks  of  the  Conclaves ;  and, 
in  general,  everything  that  relates  to  the  interior  of  that 
extraordinary  government,  founded  originally  upon  the 
ignorance  and  superstition  of  mankind,  extended  by  the 
weakness  of  some  princes,  and  the  ambition  of  others ;  de- 
clining of  late  in  proportion  as  knowledge  has  increased ; 
and  owing  its  present  precarious  security,  not  to  the  religion, 
the  affection,  or  the  fear  of  the  temporal  powers,  but  to  the 
jealousy  of  each  other.  The  Pope's  excommunications  are 
no  longer  dreaded;  his  indulgences  little  solicited,  and  sell 
very  cheap ;  and  his  territories  formidable  to  no  power,  are 
coveted  by  many,  and  will,  most  undoubtedly,  within  a 
century,  be  scantled  out  among  the  gieat  powers,  who  have 
now  a  footing  in  Italy,  whenever  they  can  agree  upon  the 
division  of  the  bear's  skin.  Pray  inform  yourself  thoroughly 
of  the  history  of  the  popes  and  the  popedom ;  which,  for 
many  centuries,  is  interwoven  with  the  history  of  all  Europe. 
Read  the  best  authors  who  treat  of  these  matters,  and 
especially  Fra  Paolo,  De  Beneficiis,  a  short,  but  very 
material  book.  You  will  find  at  Rome  some  of  all  the 
religious  orders  in  the  Christian  world.  Inform  yourself 
carefully  of  their  origin,  their  founders,  their  rules,  their 
reforms,  and  even  their  dresses :  get  acquainted  with  some 
of  all  of  them,  but  particularly  with  the  Jesuits ;  whose 
society  I  look  upon  to  be  the  most  able  and  best 
governed  society  in  the  world.  Get  acquainted,  if  you  can, 
with  their  General,  who  always  resides  at  Rome;  and  who, 
though  he  has  no  seeming  power  out  of  his  own  society,  has 
(it  may  be)  more  real  influence  over  the  whole  world,  than 
any  temporal  prince  in  it.  They  have  almost  engrossed  the 
education  of  youth;  they  are,  in  general,  confessors  to  most 
of  the  princes  of  Europe ;  and  they  are  the  principal  mis- 
sionaries out  of  it;  which  three  articles  give  them  a  most 
extensive  influence  and  solid  advantages ;  witness  their 
settlement  in  Paraguay.  The  Catholics  in  general  declaim 
against  that  society;  and  yet  are  all  governed  by  individuals 
of  it.  They  have,  by  turns,  been  banished,  and  with  infamy, 
almost  every  country  in  Europe;  and  have  always  found 
means  to  be  restored,  even  with  triumph.  In  short,  I  know 
no  government  in  the  world  that  is  carried  on  upon  such 
15 


226  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

deep  principles  of  policy,  I  will  not  add  morality.  Con- 
verse with  them,  frequent  them,  court  them;  but  know 
them. 

Inform  yourself,  too,  of  that  infernal  court,  the  Inquisition ; 
which,  though  not  so  considerable  at  Rome  as  in  Spain  and 
Portugal,  will,  however,  be  a  good  sample  to  you  of  what 
the  villainy  of  some  men  can  contrive,  the  folly  of  others 
receive,  and  both  together  establish,  in  spite  of  the  first 
natural  principles  of  reason,  justice,  and  equity. 

These  are  the  proper  and  useful  objects  of  the  attention 
of  a  man  of  sense,  when  he  travels ;  and  these  are  the  ob- 
jects for  which  I  have  sent  you  abroad;  and  I  hope  you 
will  return  thoroughly  informed  of  them. 

I  receive  this  very  moment  Mr.  Harte's  letter  of  the  ist 
October,  N.  S.,  but  I  never  received  his  former,  to  which  he 
refers  in  this,  and  you  refer  in  your  last ;  in  which  he  gave 
me  the  reasons  for  your  leaving  Verona  so  soon ;  nor  have 
I  ever  received  that  letter  in  which  your  case  was  stated 
by  your  physicians.  Letters  to  and  from  me  have  worse 
luck  than  other  people's ;  for  you  have  written  to  me,  and 
I  to  you,  for  these  last  three  months,  by  way  of  Germany, 
with  as  little  success  as  before. 

I  am  edified  with  your  morning  applications,  and  your 
evening  gallantries  at  Venice,  of  which  Mr.  Harte  gives 
me  an  account.  Pray  go  on  with  both  there,  and  afterward 
at  Rome;  where,  provided  you  arrive  in  the  beginning  of 
December,  you  may  stay  at  Venice  as  much  longer  as  you 
please. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Sir  James  Gray  and  Mr. 
Smith,  with  my  acknowledgments  for  the  great  civilities 
they  show  you. 

I  wrote  to  Mr.  Harte  by  the  last  post,  October  the  6th, 
O.  S.,  and  will  write  to  him  in  a  post  or  two  upon  the 
contents  of  his  last.  Adieu !  Point  de  distractions;  and 
remember  the  GRACES. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  227 


LETTER    LXXXVI 

LONDON,  October  17,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  I  have  at  last  received  Mr.  Harte's  letter 
of  the  i  pth  September,  N.  S.,  from  Verona.  Your 
reasons  for  leaving  that  place  were  very  good  ones; 
and  as  you  stayed  there  long  enough  to  see  what  was  to  be 
seen,  Venice  (as  a  capital)  is,  in  my  opinion,  a  much  better 
place  for  your  residence.  Capitals  are  always  the  seats  of 
arts  and  sciences,  and  the  best  companies.  I  have  stuck  to 
them  all  my  lifetime,  and  I  advise  you  to  do  so  too. 

You  will  have  received  in  my  three  or  four  last  letters 
my  directions  for  your  further  motions  to  another  capital, 
where  I  propose  that  your  stay  shall  be  pretty  considerable. 
The  expense,  I  am  well  aware,  will  be  so  too ;  but  that,  as 
I  told  you  before,  will  have  no  weight  when  your  improve- 
ment and  advantage  are  in  the  other  scale.  I  do  not  care 
a  groat  what  it  is,  if  neither  vice  nor  folly  are  the  objects 
of  it,  and  if  Mr.  Harte  gives  his  sanction. 

I  am  very  well  pleased  with  your  account  of  Carniola; 
those  are  the  kind  of  objects  worthy  of  your  inquiries  and 
knowledge.  The  produce,  the  taxes,  the  trade,  the  manu- 
factures, the  strength,  the  weakness,  the  government  of  the 
several  countries  which  a  man  of  sense  travels  through,  are 
the  material  points  to  which  he  attends;  and  leaves  the 
steeples,  the  market-places,  and  the  signs,  to  the  laborious 
and  curious  researches  of  Dutch  and  German  travelers. 

Mr.  Harte  tells  me,  that  he  intends  to  give  you,  by 
means  of  Signer  Vicentini,  a  general  notion  of  civil  and 
military  architecture;  with  which  I  am  very  well  pleased. 
They  are  frequent  subjects  of  conversation ;  and  it  is  very 
right  that  you  should  have  some  idea  of  the  latter,  and 
a  good  taste  of  the  former;  and  you  may  very  soon  learn 
as  much  as  you  need  know  of  either.  If  you  read  about 
one-third  of  Palladio's  book  of  architecture  with  some 
skillful  person,  and  then,  with  that  person,  examine  the 
best  buildings  by  those  rules,  you  will  know  the  different 
proportions  of  the  different  orders ;  the  several  diameters  of 


228  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

their  columns;  their  intercolumniations,  their  several  uses, 
etc.  The  Corinthian  Order  is  chiefly  used  in  magnificent 
buildings,  where  ornament  and  decoration  are  the  principal 
objects ;  the  Doric  is  calculated  for  strength,  and  the  Ionic 
partakes  of  the  Doric  strength,  and  of  the  Corinthian  orna- 
ments. The  Composite  and  the  Tuscan  orders  are  more 
modern,  and  were  unknown  to  the  Greeks ;  the  one  is  too 
light,  the  other  too  clumsy.  You  may  soon  be  acquainted 
with  the  considerable  parts  of  civil  architecture ;  and  for 
the  minute  and  mechanical  parts  of  it,  leave  them  to 
masons,  bricklayers,  and  Lord  Burlington,  who  has,  to  a 
certain  extent,  lessened  himself  by  knowing  them  too  well. 
Observe  the  same  method  as  to  military  architecture;  under- 
stand the  terms,  know  the  general  rules,  and  then  see  them 
in  execution  with  some  skillful  person.  Go  with  some 
engineer  or  old  officer,  and  view  with  care  the  real  forti- 
fications of  some  strong  place ;  and  you  will  get  a  clearer 
idea  of  bastions,  half-moons,  horn-works,  ravelins,  glacis, 
etc.,  than  all  the  masters  in  the  world  could  give  you  upon 
paper.  And  thus  much  I  would,  by  all  means,  have  you 
know  of  both  civil  and  military  architecture. 

I  would  also  have  you  acquire  a  liberal  taste  of  the  two 
liberal  arts  of  painting  and  sculpture ;  but  without  descend- 
ing into  those  minutiae,  which  our  modern  virtuosi  most 
affectedly  dwell  upon.  Observe  the  great  parts  attentively ; 
see  if  nature  be  truly  represented ;  if  the  passions  are 
strongly  expressed ;  if  the  characters  are  preserved ;  and 
leave  the  trifling  parts,  with  their  little  jargon,  to  affected 
puppies.  I  would  advise  you  also,  to  read  the  history  of 
the  painters  and  sculptors,  and  I  know  none  better  than 
Felibien's.  There  are  many  in  Italian ;  you  will  inform 
yourself  which  are  the  best.  It  is  a  part  of  history 
very  entertaining,  curious  enough,  and  not  quite  useless. 
All  these  sort  of  things  I  would  have  you  know,  to  a 
certain  degree;  but  remember,  that  they  must  only  be  the 
amusements,  and  not  the  business  of  a  man  of  parts. 

Since  writing  to  me  in  German  would  take  up  so  much 
of  your  time,  of  which  I  would  not  now  have  one  moment 
wasted,  I  will  accept  of  your  composition,  and  content  my- 
self with  a  moderate  German  letter  once  a  fortnight,  to 
Lady  Chesterfield  or  Mr.  Gravenkop.  My  meaning  was 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  229 

only  that  you  should  not  forget  what  you  had  already 
learned  of  the  German  language  and  character ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  that  by  frequent  use  it  should  grow  more  easy 
and  familiar.  Provided  you  take  care  of  that,  I  do  not 
care  by  what  means:  but  I  do  desire  that  you  will  every 
day  of  your  life  speak  German  to  somebody  or  other  (for 
you  will  meet  with  Germans  enough),  and  write  a  line  or 
two  of  it  every  day  to  keep  your  hand  in.  Why  should; 
you  not  (for  instance)  write  your  little  memorandums  and 
accounts  in  that  language  and  character?  by  which,  too,  you 
would  have  this  advantage  into  the  bargain,  that,  if  mis- 
laid, few  but  yourself  could  read  them. 

I  am  extremely  glad  to  hear  that  you  like  the  assemblies 
at  Venice  well  enough  to  sacrifice  some  suppers  to  them; 
for  I  hear  that  you  do  not  dislike  your  suppers  neither.  It 
is  therefore  plain,  that  there  is  somebody  or  something  at 
those  assemblies,  which  you  like  better  than  your  meat. 
And  as  I  know  that  there  is  none  but  good  company  at 
those  assemblies,  I  am  very  glad  to  find  that  you  like  good 
company  so  well.  I  already  imagine  that  you  are  a  little 
smoothed  by  it;  and  that  you  have  either  reasoned  your- 
self, or  that  they  have  laughed  you  out  of  your  absences 
and  DISTRACTIONS  ;  for  I  cannot  suppose  that  you  go  there 
to  insult  them.  I  likewise  imagine,  that  you  wish  to  be 
welcome  where  you  wish  to  go;  and  consequently,  that  you 
both  present  and  behave  yourself  there  en  galant  homtne,  et 
•pas  in  bourgeois. 

If  you  have  vowed  to  anybody  there  one  of  those  eternal 
passions  which  I  have  sometimes  known,  by  great  accident, 
last  three  months,  I  can  tell  you  that  without  great  attention, 
infinite  politeness,  and  engaging  air  and  manners,  the  omens 
will  be  sinister,  and  the  goddess  unpropitious.  Pray  tell 
me  what  are  the  amusements  of  those  assemblies?  Are 
they  little  commercial  play,  are  they  music,  are  they  la 
belle  conversation,  or  are  they  all  three?  T file-t-on  le  par- 
fait  amour?  Y  debite-t-on  les  beaux  sentimens?  Ou  est-ce 
qu'on  y  parle  Epigramme?  And  pray  which  is  your  de- 
partment? Tutis  depone  in  auribus.  Whichever  it  is, 
endeavor  to  shine  and  excel  in  it.  Aim  at  least  at  the 
perfection  of  everything  that  is  worth  doing  at  all;  and 
you  will  come  nearer  it  than  you  would  imagine ;  but  those 


230  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

always    crawl    infinitely    short    of    it    whose    aim    is    only 
mediocrity.     Adieu. 

P.  S.     By    an    uncommon    diligence    of    the  post,  I    have 
this  moment  received  yours  of  the  9th,  N.  S. 


LETTER   LXXXVII 

LONDON,  October  24,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :    By  my  last  I  only  acknowledged,  by  this  I 
answer,  your  letter  of  the  9th  October,  N.  S. 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  approved  of  my  letter  of 
'September  the  i2th,  O.  S.,  because  it  is  upon  that  footing 
that  I  always  propose  living  with  you.  I  will  advise  you 
seriously,  as  a  friend  of  some  experience,  and  I  will  con- 
verse with  you  cheerfully  as  a  companion;  the  authority  of 
a  parent  shall  forever  be  laid  aside ;  for,  wherever  it  is 
exerted,  it  is  useless ;  since,  if  you  have  neither  sense  nor 
sentiments  enough  to  follow  my  advice  as  a  friend,  your 
unwilling  obedience  to  my  orders  as  a  father  will  be  a  very 
awkward  and  unavailing  one  both  to  yourself  and  me. 
Tacitus,  speaking  of  an  army  that  awkwardly  and  unwill- 
ingly obeyed  its  generals  only  from  the  fear  of  punishment, 
says,  they  obeyed  indeed,  Sed  ut  qut  mallent  jussa  Jmpera- 
torum  interpretari,  quam  exequi.  For  my  own  part,  I  dis- 
claim such  obedience. 

You  think,  I  find,  that  you  do  not  understand  Italian ; 
but  I  can  tell  you,  that,  like  the  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme, 
who  spoke  prose  without  knowing  it,  you  understand  a 
great  deal,  though  you  do  not  know  that  you  do ;  for  who- 
ever understands  French  and  Latin  so  well  as  you  do, 
understands  at  least  half  the  Italian  language,  and  has  very 
little  occasion  for  a  dictionary.  And  for  the  idioms,  the 
phrases,  and  the  delicacies  of  it,  conversation  and  a  little 
attention  will  teach  them  you,  and  that  soon;  therefore, 
pray  speak  it  in  company,  right  or  wrong,  &  tort  ou  d,  travers^ 
as  soon  as  ever  you  have  got  words  enough  to  ask  a  com- 
mon question,  or  give  a  common  answer.  If  you  can  only 
say  buon  giorno,  say  it,  instead  of  saying  bon  jour,  I  mean 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  231 

to  every  Italian ;  the  answer  to  it  will  teach  you  more 
words,  and  insensibly  you  will  be  very  soon  master  of  that 
easy  language.  You  are  quite  right  in  not  neglecting  your 
German  for  it,  and  in  thinking  that  it  will  be  of  more  use 
to  you;  it  certainly  will,  in  the  course  of  your  business; 
but  Italian  has  its  use  too,  and  is  an  ornament  into  the 
bargain  ;  there  being  many  very  polite  and  good  authors  in 
that  language.  The  reason  you  assign  for  having  hitherto 
met  with  none  of  my  swarms  of  Germans  in  Italy,  is  a  very 
solid  one;  and  I  can  easily  conceive,  that  the  expense 
necessary  for  a  traveler  must  amount  to  a  number  of  thalers, 
groschen^  and  kreutzers,  tremendous  to  a  German  fortune. 
However,  you  will  find  several  at  Rome,  either  ecclesiastics, 
or  in  the  suite  of  the  Imperial  Minister;  and  more,  when 
you  come  into  the  Milanese,  among  the  Queen  of  Hungary's 
officers.  Besides,  you  have  a  Saxon  servant,  to  whom  I 
hope  you  speak  nothing  but  German. 

I  have  had  the  most  obliging  letter  in  the  world  from 
Monsieur  Capello,  in  which  he  speaks  very  advantageously 
of  you,  and  promises  you  his  protection  at  Rome.  I  have 
wrote  him  an  answer  by  which  I  hope  I  have  domesticated  you 
at  his  hotel  there;  which  I  advise  you  to  frequent  as  much 
as  you  can.  //  est  -vrai  quVil  ne  pate  -pas  beaucoup  de  sa 
figure;  but  he  has  sense  and  knowledge  at  bottom,  with  a 
great  experience  of  business,  having  been  already  Ambassa- 
dor at  Madrid,  Vienna,  and  London.  And  I  am  very  sure 
that  he  will  be  willing  to  give  you  any  informations,  in 
that  way,  that  he  can. 

Madame  was  a  capricious,  whimsical,  fine  lady,  till  the 
smallpox,  which  she  got  here,  by  lessening  her  beauty, 
lessened  her  humors  too;  but,  as  I  presume  it  did  not 
change  her  sex,  I  trust  to  that  for  her  having  such  a  share 
of  them  left,  as  may  contribute  to  smooth  and  polish  you. 
She,  doubtless,  still  thinks  that  she  has  beauty  enough  re- 
maining to  entitle  her  to  the  attentions  always  paid  to 
beauty ;  and  she  has  certainly  rank  enough  to  require 
respect.  Those  are  the  sort  of  women  who  polish  a  young 
man  the  most,  and  who  give  him  that  habit  of  complaisance, 
and  that  flexibility  and  versatility  of  manners  which  prove 
of  great  use  to  him  with  men,  and  m  the  course  of  busi- 
ness. 


232  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

You  must  always  expect  to  hear,  more  or  less,  from  me, 
upon  that  important  subject  of  manners,  graces,  address,  and 
that  undefinable  je  ne  sais  quoi  that  ever  pleases.  I  have 
reason  to  believe  that  you  want  nothing  else;  but  I  have 
reason  to  fear  too,  that  you  want  those :  and  that  want 
will  keep  you  poor  in  the  midst  of  all  the  plenty  of 
knowledge  which  you  may  have  treasured  up.  Adieu. 


LETTER   LXXXVIII 

LONDON,  November  3,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  From  the  time  that  you  have  had  life,  it  has 
been  the  principle  and  favorite  object  of  mine,  to 
make  you  as  perfect  as  the  imperfections  of  human 
nature  will  allow :  in  this  view,  I  have  grudged  no  pains 
nor  expense  in  your  education ;  convinced  that  education, 
more  than  nature,  is  the  cause  of  that  great  difference  which 
you  see  in  the  characters  of  men.  While  you  were  a  child, 
I  endeavored  to  form  your  heart  habitually  to  virtue  and 
honor,  before  your  understanding  was  capable  of  showing 
you  their  beauty  and  utility.  Those  principles,  which  you 
then  got,  like  your  grammar  rules,  only  by  rote,  are  now, 
I  am  persuaded,  fixed  and  confirmed  by  reason.  And  in- 
deed they  are  so  plain  and  clear,  that  they  require  but  a 
very  moderate  degree  of  understanding,  either  to  comprehend 
or  practice  them.  Lord  Shaftesbury  says,  very  prettily,  that 
he  would  be  virtuous  for  his  own  sake,  though  nobody 
were  to  know  it ;  as  he  would  be  clean  for  his  own  sake, 
though  nobody  were  to  see  him.  I  have  therefore,  since  you 
have  had  the  use  of  your  reason,  never  written  to  you  upon 
those  subjects  :  they  speak  best  for  themselves ;  and  I  should 
now  just  as  soon  think  of  warning  you  gravely  not  to  fall 
into  the  dirt  or  the  fire,  as  into  dishonor  or  vice.  This 
view  of  mine,  I  consider  as  fully  attained.  My  next  object 
was  sound  and  useful  learning.  My  own  care  first,  Mr. 
Harte's  afterward,  and  OF  LATE  (I  will  own  it  to  your 
praise)  your  own  application,  have  more  than  answered  my 
expectations  in  that  particular;  and,  I  have  reason  to  believe, 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  233 

will  answer  even  my  wishes.  All  that  remains  for  me 
then  to  wish,  to  recommend,  to  inculcate,  to  order,  and  to 
insist  upon,  is  good-breeding;  without  which,  all  your  other 
qualifications  will  be  lame,  unadorned,  and  to  a  certain 
degree  unavailing.  And  here  I  fear,  and  have  too  much 
reason  to  believe,  that  you  are  greatly  deficient.  The  re- 
mainder of  this  letter,  therefore,  shall  be  (and  it  will  not 
be  the  last  by  a  great  many)  upon  that  subject. 

A  friend  of  yours  and  mine  has  very  justly  defined  good- 
breeding  tO  be,  THE  RESULT  OF  MUCH  GOOD  SENSE,  SOME 
GOOD  NATURE,  AND  A  LITTLE  SELF-DENIAL  FOR  THE  SAKE 
OF  OTHERS,  AND  WITH  A  VIEW  TO  OBTAIN  THE  SAME  IN- 
DULGENCE FROM  THEM.  Taking  this  for  granted  (as  I 
think  it  cannot  be  disputed),  it  is  astonishing  to  me  that 
anybody  who  has  good  sense  and  good  nature  (and  I  be- 
lieve you  have  both),  can  essentially  fail  in  good-breeding. 
As  to  the  modes  of  it,  indeed,  they  vary  according  to  per- 
sons, and  places,  and  circumstances ;  and  are  only  to  be  ac- 
quired by  observation  and  experience  :  but  the  substance  of 
it  is  everywhere  and  eternally  the  same.  Good  manners 
are,  to  particular  societies,  what  good  morals  are  to  society 
in  general ;  their  cement  and  their  security.  And,  as  laws 
are  enacted  to  enforce  good  morals,  or  at  least  to  prevent 
the  ill  effects  of  bad  ones ;  so  there  are  certain  rules  of 
civility,  universally  implied  and  received,  to  enforce  good 
manners  and  punish  bad  ones.  And,  indeed,  there  seems 
to  me  to  be  less  difference,  both  between  the  crimes  and 
between  the  punishments  than  at  first  one  would  imagine. 
The  immoral  man,  who  invades  another  man's  property, 
is  justly  hanged  for  it;  and  the  ill-bred  man,  who,  by  his 
ill-manners,  invades  and  disturbs  the  quiet  and  comforts 
of  private  life,  is  by  common  consent  as  justly  banished 
society.  Mutual  complaisances,  attentions,  and  sacrifices  of 
little  conveniences,  are  as  natural  an  implied  compact  be- 
tween civilized  people,  as  protection  and  obedience  are  be- 
tween kings  and  subjects ;  whoever,  in  either  case,  violates 
that  compact,  justly  forfeits  all  advantages  arising  from  it. 
For  my  own  part,  I  really  think,  that  next  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  doing  a  good  action,  that  of  doing  a  civil  one  is 
the  most  pleasing;  and  the  epithet  which  I  should  covet 
the  most,  next  to  that  of  Aristides,  would  be  that  of  well- 


234  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

bred.  Thus  much  for  good-breeding  in  general;  I-  will 
now  consider  some  of  the  various  modes  and  degrees  of  it. 

Very  few,  scarcely  any,  are  wanting  in  the  respect  which 
they  should  show  to  those  whom  they  acknowledge  to  be 
infinitely  their  superiors;  such  as  crowned  heads,  princes, 
and  public  persons  of  distinguished  and  eminent  posts.  It 
is  the  manner  of  showing  that  respect  which  is  different. 
The  man  of  fashion  and  of  the  world,  expresses  it  in  its 
fullest  extent ;  but  naturally,  easily,  and  without  concern : 
whereas  a  man,  who  is  not  used  to  keep  good  company, 
expresses  it  awkwardly ;  one  sees  that  he  is  not  used  to  it, 
and  that  it  costs  him  a  great  deal :  but  I  never  saw  the 
worst-bred  man  living  guilty  of  lolling,  whistling,  scratch- 
ing his  head,  and  such-like  indecencies,  in  company  that 
he  respected.  In  such  companies,  therefore,  the  only  point 
to  be  attended  to  is  to  show  that  respect,  which  every- 
body means  to  show,  in  an  easy,  unembarrassed,  and  grace- 
ful manner.  This  is  what  observation  and  experience  must 
teach  you. 

In  mixed  companies,  whoever  is  admitted  to  make  part 
of  them,  is,  for  the  time  at  least,  supposed  to  be  upon  a 
footing  of  equality  with  the  rest :  and  consequently,  as 
there  is  no  one  principal  object  of  awe  and  respect,  people 
are  apt  to  take  a  greater  latitude  in  their  behavior,  and  to 
be  less  upon  their  guard  ;  and  so  they  may,  provided  it  be 
within  certain  bounds,  which  are  upon  no  occasion  to  be 
transgressed.  But,  upon  these  occasions,  though  no  one  is 
entitled  to  distinguished  marks  of  respect,  everyone  claims, 
and  very  justly,  every  mark  of  civility  and  good-breeding. 
Ease  is  allowed,  but  carelessness  and  negligence  are  strictly 
forbidden.  If  a  man  accosts  you,  and  talks  to  you  ever  so 
dully  or  frivolously,  it  is  worse  than  rudeness,  it  is  brutality, 
to  show  him,  by  a  manifest  inattention  to  what  he  says,  that 
you  think  him  a  fool  or  a  blockhead,  and  not  worth  hear- 
ing. It  is  much  more  so  with  regard  to  women ;  who,  of 
whatever  rank  they  are,  are  entitled,  in  consideration  of  their 
sex,  not  only  to  an  attentive,  but  an  officious  good-breeding 
from  men.  Their  little  wants,  likings,  dislikes,  preferences, 
antipathies,  fancies,  whims,  and  even  impertinencies,  must 
be  officiously  attended  to,  flattered,  and,  if  possible,  guessed 
at  and  anticipated  by  a  well-bred  man.  You  must  never 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  235 

usurp  to  yourself  those  conveniences  and  agrtmens  which 
are  of  common  right  ;  such  as  the  best  places,  the  best 
dishes,  etc.,  but  on  the  contrary,  always  decline  them  your- 
self, and  offer  them  to  others  ;  who,  in  their  turns,  will 
offer  them  to  you  ;  so  that,  upon  the  whole,  you  will  in 
your  turn  enjoy  your  share  of  the  common  right.  It  would 
be  endless  for  me  to  enumerate  all  the  particular  instances 
in  which  a  well-bred  man  shows  his  good-breeding  in  good 
company  ;  and  it  would  be  injurious  to  you  to  suppose  that 
your  own  good  sense  will  not  point  them  out  to  you ;  and 
then  your  own  good-nature  will  recommend,  and  your  self- 
interest  enforce  the  practice. 

There  is  a  third  sort  of  good-breeding,  in  which  people 
are  the  most  apt  to  fail,  from  a  very  mistaken  notion  that 
they  cannot  fail  at  all.  I  mean  with  regard  to  one's  most 
familiar  friends  and  acquaintances,  or  those  who  really  are 
our  inferiors ;  and  there,  undoubtedly,  a  greater  degree  of 
ease  is  not  only  allowed,  but  proper,  and  contributes  much 
to  the  comforts  of  a  private,  social  life.  But  that  ease  and 
freedom  have  their  bounds  too,  which  must  by  no  means  be 
violated.  A  certain  degree  of  negligence  and  carelessness 
becomes  injurious  and  insulting,  from  the  real  or  supposed 
inferiority  of  the  persons :  and  that  delightful  liberty  of 
conversation  among  a  few  friends  is  soon  destroyed,  as  lib- 
erty often  has  been,  by  being  carried  to  licentiousness.  But 
example  explains  things  best,  and  I  will  put  a  pretty  strong 
case.  Suppose  you  and  me  alone  together;  I  believe  you 
will  allow  that  I  have  as  good  a  right  to  unlimited  free- 
dom in  your  company,  as  either  you  or  I  can  possibly 
have  in  any  other;  and  I  am  apt  to  believe  too,  that  you 
would  indulge  me  in  that  freedom  as  far  as  anybody 
would.  But,  notwithstanding  this,  do  you  imagine  that  I 
should  think  there  were  no  bounds  to  that  freedom  ?  I  assure 
you,  I  should  not  think  so ;  and  I  take  myself  to  be  as 
much  tied  down  by  a  certain  degree  of  good  manners 
to  you,  as  by  other  degrees  of  them  to  other  people.  Were 
I  to  show  you,  by  a  manifest  inattention  to  what  you  said 
to  me,  that  I  was  thinking  of  something  else  the  whole 
time  ;  were  I  to  yawn  extremely,  snore,  or  break  wind  in 
your  company,  I  should  think  that  I  behaved  myself  to  you 
like  a  beast,  and  should  not  expect  that  you  would  care  to 


236  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

frequent  me.  No.  The  most  familiar  and  intimate  habi- 
tudes, connections,  and  friendships,  require  a  degree  of  good- 
breeding,  both  to  preserve  and  cement  them.  If  ever  a 
man  and  his  wife,  or  a  man  and  his  mistress,  who  pass 
nights  as  well  as  days  together,  absolutely  lay  aside  all 
good-breeding,  their  intimacy  will  soon  degenerate  into  a 
coarse  familiarity,  infallibly  productive  of  contempt  or  dis- 
gust. The  best  of  us  have  our  bad  sides,  and  it  is  as  im- 
prudent, as  it  is  ill-bred,  to  exhibit  them.  I  shall  certainly 
not  use  ceremony  with  you  ;  it  would  be  misplaced  between 
us :  but  I  shall  certainly  observe  that  degree  of  good-breeding 
with  you,  which  is,  in  the  first  place,  decent,  and  which 
I  am  sure  is  absolutely  necessary  to  make  us  like  one  an- 
other's company  long. 

I  will  say  no  more,  now,  upon  this  important  subject  of 
good-breeding,  upon  which  I  have  already  dwelt  too  long, 
it  may  be,  for  one  letter ;  and  upon  which  I  shall  fre- 
quently refresh  your  memory  hereafter ;  but  I  will  conclude 
with  these  axioms  :  — 

That  the  deepest  learning,  without  good-breeding,  is  un- 
welcome and  tiresome  pedantry,  and  of  use  nowhere  but 
in  a  man's  own  closet ;  and  consequently  of  little  or  no  use 
at  all. 

That  a  man,  who  is  not  perfectly  well-bred,  is  unfit  for 
good  company  and  unwelcome  in  it ;  will  consequently  dis- 
like it  soon,  afterward  renounce  it;  and  be  reduced  to  soli- 
tude, or,  what  is  worse,  low  and  bad  company. 

That  a  man  who  is  not  well-bred,  is  full  as  unfit  for  busi- 
ness as  for  company. 

Make  then,  my  dear  child,  I  conjure  you,  good-breeding 
the  great  object  of  your  thoughts  and  actions,  at  least  half 
the  day.  Observe  carefully  the  behavior  and  manners  of 
those  who  are  distinguished  by  their  good-breeding;  imitate, 
nay,  endeavor  to  excel,  that  you  may  at  least  reach  them ; 
and  be  convinced  that  good-breeding  is,  to  all  worldly  quali- 
fications, what  charity  is  to  all  Christian  virtues.  Observe 
how  it  adorns  merit,  and  how  often  it  covers  the  want  of 
it.  May  you  wear  it  to  adorn,  and  not  to  cover  you! 
Adieu. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  237 


LETTER   LXXXIX 

LONDON,  November  14,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  There  is  a  natural  good-breeding  which 
occurs  to  every  man  of  common  sense,  and  is  prac- 
ticed by  every  man  of  common  good-nature.  This 
good-breeding  is  general,  independent  of  modes,  and  con- 
sists in  endeavors  to  please  and  oblige  our  fellow-creatures 
by  all  good  offices,  short  of  moral  duties.  This  will  be 
practiced  by  a  good-natured  American  savage,  as  essentially 
as  by  the  best-bred  European.  But  then,  I  do  not  take  it 
to  extend  to  the  sacrifice  of  our  own  conveniences,  for  the 
sake  of  other  people's.  Utility  introduced  this  sort  of  good- 
breeding  as  it  introduced  commerce ;  and  established  a  truck 
of  the  little  agrtmens  and  pleasures  of  life.  I  sacrifice  such 
a  conveniency  to  you,  you  sacrifice  another  to  me;  this  com- 
merce circulates,  and  every  individual  finds  his  account  in 
it  upon  the  whole.  The  third  sort  of  good-breeding  is  local, 
and  is  variously  modified,  in  not  only  different  countries, 
but  in  different  towns  of  the  same  country.  But  it  must 
be  founded  upon  the  two  former  sorts;  they  are  the  mat- 
ter to  which,  in  this  case,  fashion  and  custom  only  give 
the  different  shapes  and  impressions.  Whoever  has  the  two 
first  sorts  will  easily  acquire  this  third  sort  of  good-breeding, 
which  depends  singly  upon  attention  and  observation.  It 
is,  properly,  the  polish,  the  lustre,  the  last  finishing  stroke 
of  good-breeding.  It  is  to  be  found  only  in  capitals,  and 
even  there  it  varies;  the  good-breeding  of  Rome  differing, 
in  some  things,  from  that  of  Paris ;  that  of  Paris,  in  others, 
from  that  of  Madrid ;  and  that  of  Madrid,  in  many  things, 
from  that  of  London.  A  man  of  sense,  therefore,  care- 
fully attends  to  the  local  manners  of  the  respective  places 
where  he  is,  and  takes  for  his  models  those  persons  whom 
he  oberves  to  be  at  the  head  of  fashion  and  good-breeding. 
He  watches  how  they  address  themselves  to  their  superiors, 
how  they  accost  their  equals,  and  how  they  treat  their  in- 
feriors ;  and  lets  none  of  those  little  niceties  escape  him 
which  are  to  good-breeding  what  the  last  delicate  and  mas- 
terly touches  are  to  a  good  picture ;  and  of  which  the  vulgar 


238  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

have  no  notion,  but  by  which  good  judges  distinguish  the 
master.  He  attends  even  to  their  air,  dress,  and  motions, 
and  imitates  them,  liberally,  and  not  servilely;  he  copies, 
but  does  not  mimic.  These  personal  graces  are  of  very 
great  consequence.  They  anticipate  the  sentiments,  before 
merit  can  engage  the  understanding;  they  captivate  the 
heart,  and  give  rise,  I  believe,  to  the  extravagant  notions 
of  charms  and  philters.  Their  effects  were  so  surprising, 
that  they  were  reckoned  supernatural.  The  most  graceful 
and  best-bred  men,  and  the  handsomest  and  genteelest 
women,  give  the  most  philters  ;  and,  as  I  verily  believe,  with- 
out the  least  assistance  of  the  devil.  Pray  be  not  only  well 
dressed,  but  shining  in  your  dress ;  let  it  have  du  brillant. 

I  do  not  mean  by  a  clumsy  load  of  gold  and  silver,  but  by 
the  taste  and  fashion  of  it.     The  women    like    and    require 
it;  they  think  it  an  attention  due  to  them;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  if  your  motions  and  carriage    are    not    graceful,  gen- 
teel, and    natural,   your    fine    clothes  will  only  display  your 
awkwardness    the    more.     But    I   am   unwilling    to    suppose 
you  still  awkward ;  for  surely,  by  this  time,  you  must  have 
catched  a  good  air  in  good  company.     When  you  went  from 
hence  you  were  naturally  awkward ;  but  your  awkwardness 
was    adventitious    and    Westmonasterial.     Leipsig,  I  appre- 
hend, is  not  the  seat  of  the  Graces ;  and  I  presume  you  ac- 
quired none  there.     But  now,  if  you  will  be  pleased  to  ob- 
serve what  people  of  the  first  fashion  do  with  their  legs  and 
arms,  heads  and  bodies,  you  will  reduce  yours  to  certain  de- 
cent laws  of   motion.     You    danced    pretty  well    here,    and 
ought  to  dance  very  well  before  you    come  home ;  for  what 
one  is  obliged  to  do  sometimes,  one  ought  to  be  able  to  do 
well.     Besides,  la    belle  danse  donne  du  brillant  a  un  jeune 
homme.     And  you  should  endeavor  to  shine.     A  calm  seren- 
ity, negative    merit    and    graces,    do  not  become    your  age. 
You  should  be  alerte,  adroit,  vif;  be  wanted,  talked  of,  im- 
patiently   expected,    and    unwillingly    parted    with  in   com- 
pany.    I  should  be  glad  to  hear  half  a  dozen  women  of  fash- 
ion say,    Oil  est    done  le  petit  Stanhope?     S^ue  ne  vient-tl  ? 

II  faut  avouer  gu'il  est  aimable.     All    this  I  do   not  mean 
singly  with  regard  to  women  as  the   principal    object ;  but, 
with  regard  to  men,  and  with  a  view  of  your  making  your- 
self considerable.     For  with  very  small  variations,  the  same 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  239 

things  that  please  women  please  men;  and  a  man  whose 
manners  are  softened  and  polished  by  women  of  fashion, 
and  who  is  formed  by  them  to  an  habitual  attention  and 
complaisance,  will  please,  engage,  and  connect  men,  much 
easier  and  more  than  he  would  otherwise.  You  must  be 
sensible  that  you  cannot  rise  in  the  world,  without  forming 
connections,  and  engaging  different  characters  to  conspire 
in  your  point.  You  must  make  them  your  dependents  with- 
out their  knowing  it,  and  dictate  to  them  while  you  seem 
to  be  directed  by  them.  Those  necessary  connections  can 
never  be  formed,  or  preserved,  but  by  an  uninterrupted 
series  of  complaisance,  attentions,  politeness,  and  some  con- 
straint. You  must  engage  their  hearts,  if  you  would  have 
their  support;  you  must  watch  the  mollia  tetnpora,a.nd  cap- 
tivate them  by  the  agrtmens  and  charms  of  conversation. 
People  will  not  be  called  out  to  your  service,  only  when 
you  want  them;  and,  if  you  expect  to  receive  strength  from 
them,  they  must  receive  either  pleasure  or  advantage  from 
you. 

I  received  in  this  instant  a  letter  from  Mr.  Harte,  of  the 
2d  N.  S.,  which  I  will  answer  soon;  in  the  meantime,  I 
return  him  my  thanks  for  it,  through  you.  The  constant 
good  accounts  which  he  gives  me  of  you,  will  make  me 
suspect  him  of  partiality,  and  think  him  le  mddecin  tant 
mieux.  Consider,  therefore,  what  weight  any  future  depo- 
sition of  his  against  you  must  necessarily  have  with  me. 
As,  in  that  case,  he  will  be  a  very  unwilling,  he  must 
consequently  be  a  very  important  witness.  Adieu! 


LETTER    XC 

DEAR  BOY  :  My    last    was    upon    the    subject    of    good- 
breeding;    but  I    think  it  rather    set    before   you   the 
unfitness    and  disadvantages  of    ill-breeding,  than  the 
utility  and    necessity  of    good;  it  was    rather    negative  than 
positive.     This,   therefore,  should  go  further,  and  explain  to 
you    the    necessity,    which    you,    of    all    people    living,    lie 
under,  not  only  of  being  positively  and    actively  well-bred, 
but  of    shining    and    distinguishing   yourself   by  your   good- 


240  LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S 

breeding.  Consider  your  own  situation  in  every  particular, 
and  judge  whether  it  is  not  essentially  your  interest,  by 
your  own  good-breeding  to  others,  to  secure  theirs  to  you  : 
and  that,  let  me  assure  you,  is  the  only  way  of  doing  it ; 
for  people  will  repay,  and  with  interest  too,  inattention 
with  inattention,  neglect  with  neglect,  and  ill  manners  with 
worse  :  which  may  engage  you  in  very  disagreeable  affairs. 
In  the  next  place,  your  profession  requires,  more  than  any 
other,  the  nicest  and  most  distinguished  good-breeding. 
You  will  negotiate  with  very  little  success,  if  you  do  not 
previously,  by  your  manners,  conciliate  and  engage  the 
affections  of  those  with  whom  you  are  to  negotiate.  Can 
you  ever  get  into  the  confidence  and  the  secrets  of  the 
courts  where  you  may  happen  to  reside,  if  you  have 
not  those  pleasing,  insinuating  manners,  which  alone  can 
procure  them?  Upon  my  word,  I  do  not  say  too  much, 
when  I  say  that  superior  good-breeding,  insinuating  man- 
ners, and  genteel  address,  are  half  your  business.  Your 
knowledge  will  have  but  very  little  influence  upon  the  mind,  if 
your  manners  prejudice  the  heart  against  you;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  how  easily  will  you  DUPE  the  understanding,  where  you 
have  first  engaged  the  heart?  and  hearts  are  by  no  means  to 
be  gained  by  that  mere  common  civility  which  everybody  prac- 
tices. Bowing  again  to  those  who  bow  to  you,  answering 
dryly  those  who  speak  to  you,  and  saying  nothing  offensive  to 
anybody,  is  such  negative  good-breeding  that  it  is  only 
not  being  a  brute;  as  it  would  be  but  a  very  poor  com- 
mendation of  any  man's  cleanliness  to  say  that  he  did  not 
stink.  It  is  an  active,  cheerful,  officious,  seducing,  good- 
breeding  that  must  gain  you  the  good-will  and  first 
sentiments  of  men,  and  the  affections  of  the  women.  You 
must  carefully  watch  and  attend  to  their  passions,  their 
tastes,  their  little  humors  and  weaknesses,  and  aller  au  devant. 
You  must  do  it  at  the  same  time  with  alacrity  and  em- 
•pressement,  and  not  as  if  you  graciously  condescended  to 
humor  their  weaknesses. 

For  instance,  suppose  you  invited  anybody  to  dine  or 
sup  with  you,  you  ought  to  recollect  if  you  had  observed 
that  they  had  any  favorite  dish,  and  take  care  to  provide 
it  for  them ;  and  when  it  came  you  should  say,  You 

SEEMED    TO     ME,    AT     SUCH     AND     SUCH     A     PLACE,     TO     GIVE 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  241 

THIS    DISH    A    PREFERENCE,   AND    THEREFORE   I  ORDERED    IT; 
THIS     IS     THE     WINE     THAT     I     OBSERVED     YOU     LIKED,      AND 

THEREFORE  I  PROCURED  SOME.  The  more  trifling  these 
things  are,  the  more  they  prove  your  attention  for  the 
person,  and  are  consequently  the  more  engaging.  Consult 
your  own  breast,  and  recollect  how  these  little  attentions, 
when  shown  you  by  others,  flatter  that  degree  of  self-love 
and  vanity  from  which  no  man  living  is  free.  Reflect 
how  they  incline  and  attract  you  to  that  person,  and  how 
you  are  propitiated  afterward  to  all  which  that  person 
says  or  does.  The  same  causes  will  have  the  same  effects 
in  your  favor.  Women,  in  a  great  degree,  establish  or 
destroy  every  man's  reputation  of  good-breeding ;  you  must, 
therefore,  in  a  manner,  overwhelm  them  with  these  atten- 
tions: they  are  used  to  them,  they  expect  them,  and,  to 
do  them  justice,  they  commonly  requite  them.  You  must 
be  sedulous,  and  rather  over  officious  than  under,  in  pro- 
curing them  their  coaches,  their  chairs,  their  conveniences 
in  public  places :  not  see  what  you  should  not  see ;  and 
rather  assist,  where  you  cannot  help  seeing.  Opportunities 
of  showing  these  attentions  present  themselves  perpetually ; 
but  if  they  do  not,  make  them.  As  Ovid  advises  his  lover, 
when  he  sits  in  the  Circus  near  his  mistress,  to  wipe  the 
dust  off  her  neck,  even  if  there  be  none  :  Si  nullus,  tamen 
excute  nullum.  Your  conversation  with  women  should 
always  be  respectful ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  enjoue,  and 
always  addressed  to  their  vanity.  Everything  you  say  or 
do  should  convince  them  of  the  regard  you  have  (whether 
you  have  it  or  not)  for  their  beauty,  their  wit,  or  their 
merit.  Men  have  possibly  as  much  vanity  as  women, 
though  of  another  kind;  and  both  art  and  good-breeding 
require,  that,  instead  of  mortifying,  you  should  please  and 
flatter  it,  by  words  and  looks  of  approbation.  Suppose 
(which  is  by  no  means  improbable)  that,  at  your  return  to 
England,  I  should  place  you  near  the  person  of  some  one 
of  the  royal  family;  in  that  situation,  good-breeding,  engag- 
ing address,  adorhed  with  all  the  graces  that  dwell  at 
courts,  would  very  probably  make  you  a  favorite,  and, 
from  a  favorite,  a  minister;  but  all  the  knowledge  and 
learning  in  the  world,  without  them,  never  would.  The 
penetration  of  princes  seldom  goes  deeper  than  the  surface. 
16 


242  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

It  is  the  exterior  that  always  engages  their  hearts;  and  I 
would  never  advise  you  to  give  yourself  much  trouble  about 
their  understanding.  Princes  in  general  (I  mean  those 
Porphyrogenets  who  are  born  and  bred  in  purple)  are  about 
the  pitch  of  women ;  bred  up  like  them,  and  are  to  be 
addressed  and  gained  in  the  same  manner.  They  always 
see,  they  seldom  weigh.  Your  lustre,  not  your  solidity, 
must  take  them ;  your  inside  will  afterward  support  and 
secure  what  your  outside  has  acquired.  With  weak  people 
(and  they  undoubtedly  are  three  parts  in  four  of  mankind) 
good-breeding,  address,  and  manners  are  everything;  they 
can  go  no  deeper;  but  let  me  assure  you  that  they  are  a 
great  deal  even  with  people  of  the  best  understandings. 
Where  the  eyes  are  not  pleased,  and  the  heart  is  not  flat- 
tered, the  mind  will  be  apt  to  stand  out.  Be  this  right  or 
wrong,  I  confess  I  am  so  made  myself.  Awkwardness  and 
ill-breeding  shock  me  to  that  degree,  that  where  I  meet 
with  them,  I  cannot  find  in  my  heart  to  inquire  into  the 
intrinsic  merit  of  that  person :  I  hastily  decide  in  myself 
that  he  can  have  none;  and  am  not  sure  that  I  should  not 
even  be  sorry  to  know  that  he  had  any.  I  often  paint  you 
in  my  imagination,  in  your  present  lontananza,  and,  while  I 
view  you  in  the  light  of  ancient  and  modern  learning,  useful 
and  ornamental  knowledge,  I  am  charmed  with  the  pros- 
pect ;  but  when  I  view  you  in  another  light,  and  represent 
you  awkward,  ungraceful,  ill-bred,  with  vulgar  air  and 
manners,  shambling  toward  me  with  inattention  and  DIS- 
TRACTIONS, I  shall  not  pretend  to  describe  to  you  what  I 
feel ;  but  will  do  as  a  skillful  painter  did  formerly  —  draw 
a  veil  before  the  countenance  of  the  father. 

I  dare  say  you  know  already  enough  of  architecture,  to 
know  that  the  Tuscan  is  the  strongest  and  most  solid  of  all 
the  orders ;  but  at  the  same  time,  it  is  the  coarsest  and 
clumsiest  of  them.  Its  solidity  does  extremely  well  for  the 
foundation  and  base  floor  of  a  great  edifice ;  but  if  the 
whole  building  be  Tuscan,  it  will  attract  no  eyes,  it  will 
stop  no  passengers,  it  will  invite  no  interior  examination  ; 
people  will  take  it  for  granted  that  the  finishing  and  fur- 
nishing cannot  be  worth  seeing,  where  the  front  is  so 
unadorned  and  clumsy.  But  if,  upon  the  solid  Tuscan 
foundation,  the  Doric,  the  Ionic,  and  the  Corinthian  orders 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  243 

rise  gradually  with  all  their  beauty,  proportions,  and  orna- 
ments, the  fabric  seizes  the  most  incurious  eye,  and  stops 
the  most  careless  passenger;  who  solicits  admission  as  a 
favor,  nay,  often  purchases  it.  Just  so  will  it  fare  with 
your  little  fabric,  which,  at  present,  I  fear,  has  more  of  the 
Tuscan  than  of  the  Corinthian  order.  You  must  absolutely 
change  the  whole  front,  or  nobody  will  knock  at  the  door. 
The  several  parts,  which  must  compose  this  new  front,  are 
elegant,  easy,  natural,  superior  good-breeding;  an  engaging 
address ;  genteel  motions ;  an  insinuating  softness  in  your 
looks,  words,  and  actions ;  a  spruce,  lively  air,  fashiona- 
ble dress ;  and  all  the  glitter  that  a  young  fellow  should 
have. 

I  am  sure  you  would  do  a  great  deal  for  my  sake ;  and 
therefore  consider  at  your  return  here,  what  a  disappoint- 
ment and  concern  it  would  be  to  me,  if  I  could  not  safely 
depute  you  to  do  the  honors  of  my  house  and  table ;  and  if 
I  should  be  ashamed  to  present  you  to  those  who  frequent 
both.  Should  you  be  awkward,  inattentive,  and  distrait, 

and  happen  to  meet  Mr.  L at  my  table,  the  consequences 

of  that  meeting  must  be  fatal;  you  would  run  your  heads 
against  each  other,  cut  each  other's  fingers,  instead  of 
your  meat,  or  die  by  the  precipitate  infusion  of  scalding 
soup. 

This  is  really  so  copious  a  subject,  that  there  is  no  end 
of  being  either  serious  or  ludicrous  upon  it.  It  is  impos- 
sible, too,  to  enumerate  or  state  to  you  the  various  cases  in 
good-breeding ;  they  are  infinite  ;  there  is  no  situation  or 
relation  in  the  world  so  remote  or  so  intimate,  that  does 
not  require  a  degree  of  it.  Your  own  good  sense  must 
point  it  out  to  you ;  your  own  good-nature  must  incline, 
and  your  interest  prompt  you  to  practice  it ;  and  observa- 
tion and  experience  must  give  you  the  manner,  the  air  and 
the  graces  which  complete  the  whole. 

This  letter  will  hardly  overtake  you,  till  you  are  at  or 
near  Rome.  I  expect  a  great  deal  in  every  way  from  your 
six  months'  stay  there.  My  morning  hopes  are  justly  placed 
in  Mr.  Harte,  and  the  masters  he  will  give  you;  my  even- 
ing ones,  in  the  Roman  ladies  :  pray  be  attentive  to  both. 
But  I  must  hint  to  you,  that  the  Roman  ladies  are  not  les 
femmes  savantes,  et  ne  vous  embrasseront  point  pour  V amour 


244  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

du  Grec.  They  must  have  il  garbato,  il  leggiadro,  it  disin- 
volto,  il  lusinghiero,  quel  non  sb  che,  che  piace,  che  alletta, 
che  incanta. 

I  have  often  asserted,  that  the  profoundest  learning  and 
the  politest  manners  were  by  no  means  incompatible, 
though  so  seldom  found  united  in  the  same  person  ;  and  I 
have  engaged  myself  to  exhibit  you,  as  a  proof  of  the  truth 
of  this  assertion.  Should  you,  instead  of  that,  happen  to 
disprove  me,  the  concern  indeed  would  be  mine,  but  the 
loss  will  be  yours.  Lord  Bolingbroke  is  a  strong  instance 
on  my  side  of  the  question  ;  he  joins  to  the  deepest  erudi- 
tion, the  most  elegant  politeness  and  good-breeding  that 
ever  any  courtier  and  man  of  the  world  was  adorned  with. 
And  Pope  very  justly  called  him  <(  All-accomplished  St. 
John,*  with  regard  to  his  knowledge  and  his  manners.  He 
had,  it  is  true,  his  faults;  which  proceeded  from  unbounded 
ambition,  and  impetuous  passions  ;  but  they  have  now  sub- 
sided by  age  and  experience  ;  and  I  can  wish  you  nothing 
better  than  to  be,  what  he  is  now,  without  being  what  he 
has  been  formerly.  His  address  pre-engages,  his  eloquence 
persuades,  and  his  knowledge  informs  all  who  approach 
him.  Upon  the  whole,  I  do  desire,  and  insist,  that  from 
after  dinner  till  you  go  to  bed,  you  make  good-breeding, 
address,  and  manners,  your  serious  object  and  your  only 
care.  Without  them,  you  will  be  nobody;  with  them,  you 
may  be  anything. 

Adieu,  my   dear   child!     My  compliments  to  Mr.    Harte. 


LETTER    XCI 

LONDON,  November  24,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  Every  rational  being  (I  take  it  for  granted) 
proposes  to  himself  some  object  more  important  than 
mere    respiration    and  obscure    animal  existence.     He 
desires   to    distinguish    himself   among   his    fellow-creatures; 
and,  alicui   negotio    intentus,  prceclari  Jacinoris,    aut   artis 
bonce,  faman  queer  it.     Caesar,   when   embarking  in  a  storm, 
said,  that    it  was    not  necessary  he    should  live;  but  that  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  he  should  get  to  the  place  to  which 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  245 

he  was  going.  And  Pliny  leaves  mankind  this  only  alter- 
native; either  of  doing  what  deserves  to  be  written,  or  of 
writing  what  deserves  to  be  read.  As  for  those  who  do 
neither,  eorum  vitam  mortemque  juxta  cestumo;  quoniam  de 
utraque  siletur.  You  have,  I  am  convinced,  one  or  both  of 
these  objects  in  view ;  but  you  must  know  and  use  the 
necessary  means,  or  your  pursuit  will  be  vain  and  frivolous. 
In  either  case,  Sapere  est  principium  et  fons;  but  it  is  by 
no  means  all.  That  knowledge  must  be  adorned,  it  must 
have  lustre  as  well  as  weight,  or  it  will  be  oftener  taken 
for  lead  than  for  gold.  Knowledge  you  have,  and  will 
have:  I  am  easy  upon  that  article.  But  my  business,  as 
your  friend,  is  not  to  compliment  you  upon  what  you  have, 
but  to  tell  you  with  freedom  what  you  want ;  and  I  must 
tell  you  plainly,  that  I  fear  you  want  everything  but 
knowledge. 

I  have  written  to  you  so  often,  of  late,  upon  good-breeding, 
address,  les  manures  liantes,  the  Graces,  etc.,  that  I  shall 
confine  this  letter  to  another  subject,  pretty  near  akin  to 
them,  and  which,  I  am  sure,  you  are  full  as  deficient  in ; 
I  mean  Style. 

Style  is  the  dress  of  thoughts ;  and  let  them  be  ever  so 
just,  if  your  style  is  homely,  coarse,  and  vulgar,  they  will 
appear  to  as  much  disadvantage,  and  be  as  ill  received  as 
your  person,  though  ever  so  well  proportioned,  would,  if 
dressed  in  rags,  dirt,  and  tatters.  It  is  not  every  under- 
standing that  can  judge  of  matter;  but  every  ear  can  and 
does  judge,  more  or  less,  of  style:  and  were  I  either  to 
speak  or  write  to  the  public,  I  should  prefer  moderate  mat- 
ter, adorned  with  all  the  beauties  and  elegancies  of  style, 
to  the  strongest  matter  in  the  world,  ill-worded  and  ill- 
delivered.  Your  business  is  negotiation  abroad,  and  oratory 
in  the  House  of  Commons  at  home.  What  figure  can  you 
make,  in  either  case,  if  your  style  be  inelegant,  I  do  not 
say  bad?  Imagine  yourself  writing  an  office-letter  to  a 
secretary  of  state,  which  letter  is  to  be  read  by  the  whole 
Cabinet  Council,  and  very  possibly  afterward  laid  before 
parliament;  any  one  barbarism,  solecism,  or  vulgarism  in  it, 
would,  in  a  very  few  days,  circulate  through  the  whole 
kingdom,  to  your  disgrace  and  ridicule.  For  instance,  I 
will  suppose  you  had  written  the  following  letter  from  The 


246  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Hague  to  the  Secretary  of  State  at  London ;  and  leave  you 
to  suppose  the  consequences  of  it:  — 

MY  LORD:  I  HAD,  last  night,  the  honor  of  your  Lordship's 
letter  of  the  24th;  and  will  SET  ABOUT  DOING  the  orders 
contained  THEREIN  ;  and  IF  so  BE  that  I  can  get  that  affair 
done  by  the  next  post,  I  will  not  fail  FOR  TO  give  your  Lord- 
ship an  account  of  it  by  NEXT  POST.  I  have  told  the 
French  Minister,  AS  HOW  THAT  IF  that  affair  be  not  soon 
concluded,  your  Lordship  would  think  it  ALL  LONG  OF  HIM; 
and  that  he  must  have  neglected  FOR  TO  have  wrote  to  his 
court  about  it.  I  must  beg  leave  to  put  your  Lordship  in 
mind  AS  HOW,  that  I  am  now  full  three  quarter  in  arrear ; 
and  if  so  BE  that  I  do  not  very  soon  receive  at  least  one- 
half  year,  I  shall  CUT  A  VERY  BAD  FIGURE  ;  FOR  THIS  HERE 
place  is  very  dear.  I  shall  be  VASTLY  BEHOLDEN  to  your 
Lordship  for  THAT  THERE  mark  of  your  favor;  and  so  I 

REST    Or    REMAIN,    Your,  etc. 

You  will  tell  me,  possibly,  that  this  is  a  caricatura  of  an 
illiberal  and  inelegant  style:  I  will  admit  it;  but  assure 
you,  at  the  same  time,  that  a  dispatch  with  less  than  half 
these  faults  would  blow  you  up  forever.  It  is  by  no  means 
sufficient  to  be  free  from  faults,  in  speaking  and  writing; 
but  you  must  do  both  correctly  and  elegantly.  In  faults  of 
this  kind,  it  is  not  tile  optimus  qui  minimis  arguetur;  but 
he  is  unpardonable  who  has  any  at  all,  because  it  is  his 
own  fault :  he  need  only  attend  to,  observe,  and  imitate 
the  best  authors. 

It  is  a  very  true  saying,  that  a  man  must  be  born  a  poet, 
but  that  he  may  make  himself  an  orator ;  and  the  very  first 
principle  of  an  orator  is  to  speak  his  own  language,  par- 
ticularly, with  the  utmost  purity  and  elegance.  A  man 
will  be  forgiven  even  great  errors  in  a  foreign  language ; 
but  in  his  own,  even  the  least  slips  are  justly  laid  hold  of 
and  ridiculed. 

A  person  of  the  House  of  Commons,  speaking  two  years 
ago  upon  naval  affairs,  asserted,  that  we  had  then  the  finest 
navy  UPON  THE  FACE  OF  THE  YEARTH.  This  happy  mixture 
of  blunder  and  vulgarism,  you  may  easily  imagine,  was 
matter  of  immediate  ridicule ;  but  I  can  assure  you  that  it 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  247 

continues  so  still,  and  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  he 
lives  and  speaks.  Another,  speaking  in  defense  of  a  gentle- 
man, upon  whom  a  censure  was  moved,  happily  said  that  he 
thought  that  gentleman  was  more  LIABLE  to  be  thanked  and 
rewarded,  than  censured.  You  know,  I  presume,  that  LIABLE 
can  never  be  used  in  a  good  sense. 

You  have  with  you  three  or  four  of  the  best  English 
authors,  Dryden,  Atterbury,  and  Swift ;  read  them  with  the 
utmost  care,  and  with  a  particular  view  to  their  language, 
and  they  may  possibly  correct  that  CURIOUS  INFELICITY  OF 
DICTION,  which  you  acquired  at  Westminster.  Mr.  Harte 
excepted,  I  will  admit  that  you  have  met  with  very  few 
English  abroad,  who  could  improve  your  style ;  and  with 
many,  I  dare  say,  who  speak  as  ill  as  yourself,  and,  it  may 
be,  worse ;  you  must,  therefore,  take  the  more  pains,  and 
consult  your  authors  and  Mr.  Harte  the  more.  I  need  not 
tell  you  how  attentive  the  Romans  and  Greeks,  particularly 
the  Athenians,  were  to  this  object.  It  is  also  a  study  among 
the  Italians  and  the  French ;  witness  their  respective 
academies  and  dictionaries  for  improving  and  fixing  their 
languages.  To  our  shame  be  it  spoken,  it  is  less  attended 
to  here  than  in  any  polite  country ;  but  that  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  not  attend  to  it ;  on  the  contrary,  it  will  dis- 
tinguish you  the  more.  Cicero  says,  very  truly,  that  it  is 
glorious  to  excel  other  men  in  that  very  article,  in  which 
men  excel  brutes ;  SPEECH. 

Constant  experience  has  shown  me,  that  great  purity  and 
elegance  of  style,  with  a  graceful  elocution,  cover  a  multi- 
tude of  faults,  in  either  a  speaker  or  a  writer.  For  my 
own  part,  I  confess  (and  I  believe  most  people  are  of  my 
mind)  that  if  a  speaker  should  ungracefully  mutter  or 
stammer  out  to  me  the  sense  of  an  angel,  deformed  by  bar- 
barism and  solecisms,  or  larded  with  vulgarisms,  he  should 
never  speak  to  me  a  second  time,  if  I  could  help  it.  Gain 
the  heart,  or  you  gain  nothing ;  the  eyes  and  the  ears  are 
the  only  roads  to  the  heart.  Merit  and  knowledge  will  not 
gain  hearts,  though  they  will  secure  them  when  gained. 
Pray,  have  that  truth  ever  in  your  mind.  Engage  the  eyes 
by  your  address,  air,  and  motions ;  soothe  the  ears  by  the 
elegance  and  harmony  of  your  diction ;  the  heart  will  cer- 
tainly follow;  and  the  whole  man,  or  woman,  will  as 


248  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

certainly  follow  the  heart.  I  must  repeat  it  to  you,  over 
and  over  again,  that  with  all  the  knowledge  which  you  may 
have  at  present,  or  hereafter  acquire,  and  with  all  merit 
that  ever  man  had,  if  you  have  not  a  graceful  address, 
liberal  and  engaging  manners,  a  prepossessing  air,  and  a 
good  degree  of  eloquence  in  speaking  and  writing,  you 
will  be  nobody ;  but  will  have  the  daily  mortification  of 
seeing  people,  with  not  one-tenth  part  of  your  merit  or 
knowledge,  get  the  start  of  you,  and  disgrace  you,  both  in 
company  and  in  business. 

You  have  read  (<  Quintilian,"  the  best  book  in  the  world 
to  form  an  orator;  pray  read  Cicero  de  Oratore,  the 
best  book  in  the  world  to  finish  one.  Translate  and  re- 
translate from  and  to  Latin,  Greek,  and  English ;  make 
yourself  a  pure  and  elegant  English  style  :  it  requires  noth- 
ing but  application.  I  do  not  find  that  God  has  made  you 
a  poet ;  and  I  am  very  glad  that  he  has  not :  therefore,  for 
God's  sake,  make  yourself  an  orator,  which  you  may  do. 
Though  I  still  call  you  boy,  I  consider  you  no  longer  as 
such ;  and  when  I  reflect  upon  the  prodigious  quantity  of 
manure  that  has  been  laid  upon  you,  I  expect  that  you 
should  produce  more  at  eighteen,  than  uncultivated  soils  do 
at  eight-and-twenty. 

Pray  tell  Mr.  Harte  that  I  have  received  his  letter  of  the 
I3th,  N.  S.  Mr.  Smith  was  much  in  the  right  not  to  let 
you  go,  at  this  time  of  the  year,  by  sea ;  in  the  summer 
you  may  navigate  as  much  as  you  please ;  as,  for  example, 
from  Leghorn  to  Genoa,  etc.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XCII 

LONDON,  November  27,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  While  the  Roman  Republic  flourished,  while 
glory  was    pursued,    and  virtue  practiced,  and  while 
even  little  irregularities  and  indecencies,  not  cognizable 
by  law,  were,  however,  not  thought  below  the  public  care, 
censors    were    established,    discretionally  to    supply,  in   par- 
ticular cases,  the  inevitable  defects  of  the  law,  which  must 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  249 

and  can  only  be  general.  This  employment  I  assume  to 
myself  with  regard  to  your  little  republic,  leaving  the  legis- 
lative power  entirely  to  Mr.  Harte ;  I  hope,  and  believe, 
that  he  will  seldom,  or  rather  never,  have  occasion  to  exert 
his  supreme  authority;  and  I  do  by  no  means  suspect  you 
of  any  faults  that  may  require  that  interposition.  But,  to 
tell  you  the  plain  truth,  I  am  of  opinion  that  my  censorial 
power  will  not  be  useless  to  you,  nor  a  sinecure  to  me. 
The  sooner  you  make  it  both,  the  better  for  us  both.  I 
can  now  exercise  this  employment  only  upon  hearsay,  or, 
at  most,  written  evidence;  and  therefore  shall  exercise  it 
with  great  lenity  and  some  diffidence ;  but  when  we  meet, 
and  that  I  can  form  my  judgment  upon  ocular  and  auric- 
ular evidence,  I  shall  no  more  let  the  least  impropriety,  in- 
decorum, or  irregularity  pass  uncensured,  than  my  prede- 
cessor Cato  did.  I  shall  read  you  with  the  attention  of  a  critic, 
not  with  the  partiality  of  an  author:  different  in  this  respect, 
indeed,  from  most  critics,  that  I  shall  seek  for  faults  only 
to  correct  and  not  ,to  expose  them.  I  have  often  thought, 
and  still  think,  that  there  are  few  things  which  people  in 
general  know  less,  than  how  to  love  and  how  to  hate. 
They  hurt  those  they  love  by  a  mistaken  indulgence,  by  a 
blindness,  nay,  often  by  a  partiality  to  their  faults.  Where 
they  hate  they  hurt  themselves,  by  ill-timed  passion  and  rage. 
Fortunately  for  you,  I  never  loved  you  in  that  mistaken 
manner.  From  your  infancy,  I  made  you  the  object  of  my 
most  serious  attention,  and  not  my  plaything.  I  consulted 
your  real  good,  not  your  humors  or  fancies;  and  I  shall 
continue  to  do  so  while  you  want  it,  which  will  probably 
be  the  case  during  our  joint  lives ;  for,  considering  the  dif- 
ference of  our  ages,  in  the  course  of  nature,  you  will  hardly 
have  acquired  experience  enough  of  your  own,  while  I  shall  be 
in  condition  of  lending  you  any  of  mine.  People  in  general 
will  much  better  bear  being  told  of  their  vices  or  crimes, 
than  of  their  little  failings  and  weaknesses.  They,  in  some 
degree,  justify  or  excuse  (as  they  think)  the  former,  by 
strong  passions,  seductions,  and  artifices  of  others ;  but  to 
be  told  of,  or  to  confess,  their  little  failings  and  weak- 
nesses, implies  an  inferiority  of  parts,  too  mortifying  to 
that  self-love  and  vanity,  which  are  inseparable  from  our 
natures.  I  have  been  intimate  enough  with  several  people 


250  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

to  tell  them  that  they  had  said  or  done  a  very  criminal 
thing;  but  I  never  was  intimate  enough  with  any  man,  to 
tell  him,  very  seriously,  that  he  had  said  or  done  a  very 
foolish  one.  Nothing  less  than  the  relation  between  you 
and  me  can  possibly  authorize  that  freedom ;  but  fortunately 
for  you,  my  parental  rights,  joined  to  my  censorial  powers, 
give  it  me  in  its  fullest  extent,  and  my  concern  for  you 
will  make  me  exert  it.  Rejoice,  therefore,  that  there  is 
one  person  in  the  world  who  can  and  will  tell  you  what 
will  be  very  useful  to  you  to  know,  and  yet  what  no  other 
man  living  could  or  would  tell  you.  Whatever  I  shall  tell 
you  of  this  kind,  you  are  very  sure,  can  have  no  other 
motive  than  your  interest ;  I  can  neither  be  jealous  nor  en- 
vious of  your  reputation  or  fortune,  which  I  must  be  both 
desirous  and  proud  to  establish  and  promote ;  I  cannot  be 
your  rival  either  in  love  or  in  business ;  on  the  contrary,  I 
want  the  rays  of  your  rising  to  reflect  new  lustre  upon  my 
setting  light.  In  order  to  this,  I  shall  analyze  you 
minutely,  and  censure  you  freely,  that  you  may  not  (if 
possible)  have  one  single  spot,  when  in  your  meridian. 

There  is  nothing  that  a  young  fellow,  at  his  first  appear- 
ance in  the  world,  has  more  reason  to  dread,  and  conse- 
quently should  take  more  pains  to  avoid,  than  having  any 
ridicule  fixed  upon  him.  It  degrades  him  with  the  most  reas- 
onable part  of  mankind;  but  it  ruins  him  with  the  rest;  and 
I  have  known  many  a  man  undone  by  acquiring  a  ridicu- 
lous nickname:  I  would  not,  for  all  the  riches  in  the  world, 
that  you  should  acquire  one  when  you  return  to  England. 
Vices  and  crimes  excite  hatred  and  reproach;  failings, 
weaknesses,  and  awkwardnesses,  excite  ridicule ;  they  are 
laid  hold  of  by  mimics,  who,  though  very  contemptible 
wretches  themselves,  often,  by  their  buffoonery,  fix  ridicule 
upon  their  betters.  The  little  defects  in  manners,  elocution, 
address,  and  air  (and  even  of  figure,  though  very  unjustly), 
are  the  objects  of  ridicule,  and  the  causes  of  nicknames. 
You  cannot  imagine  the  grief  it  would  give  me,  and  the 
prejudice  it  would  do  you,  if,  by  way  of  distinguishing 
you  from  others  of  your  name,  you  should  happen  to  be 
called  Muttering  Stanhope,  Absent  Stanhope,  Ill-bred  Stan- 
hope, or  Awkward,  Left-legged  Stanhope :  therefore,  take 
great  care  to  put  it  out  of  the  power  of  Ridicule  itself  to  give 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  251 

you  any  of  these  ridiculous  epithets ;  for,  if  you  get  one,  it 
will  stick  to  you,  like  the  envenomed  shirt.  The  very  first 
day  that  I  see  you,  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you,  and  cer- 
tainly shall  tell  you,  what  degree  of  danger  you  are  in ; 
and  I  hope  that  my  admonitions,  as  censor,  may  prevent 
the  censures  of  the  public.  Admonitions  are  always  useful ; 
is  this  one  or  not?  You  are  the  best  judge;  it  is  your  own 
picture  which  I  send  you,  drawn,  at  my  request,  by  a  lady 
at  Venice  :  pray  let  me  know  how  far,  in  your  conscience, 
you  think  it  like;  for  there  are  some  parts  of  it  which  I 
wish  may,  and  others,  which  I  should  be  sorry  were.  I 
send  you,  literally,  the  copy  of  that  part  of  her  letter,  to 
her  friend  here,  which  relates  to  you.* 

Tell  Mr.  Harte  that  I  have  this  moment  received  his  let- 
ter of  the  22d,  N.  S.,  and  that  I  approve  extremely  of  the 
long  stay  you  have  made  at  Venice.  I  love  long  residences 
at  capitals ;  running  post  through  different  places  is  a  most 

*(<In  compliance  to  your  orders,  I  have  examined  young  Stanhope 
carefully,  and  think  I  have  penetrated  into  his  character.  This  is  his 
portrait,  which  I  take  to  be  a  faithful  one.  His  face  is  pleasing,  his 
countenance  sensible,  and  his  look  clever.  His  figure  is  at  present 
rather  too  square ;  but  if  he  shoots  up,  which  he  has  matter  and  years 
for,  he  will  then  be  of  a  good  size.  He  has,  undoubtedly,  a  great  fund 
of  acquired  knowledge ;  I  am  assured  that  he  is  master  of  the  learned 
languages.  As  for  French,  I  know  he  speaks  it  perfectly,  and,  I  am 
told,  German  as  well.  The  questions  he  asks  are  judicious,  and  de- 
note a  thirst  after  knowledge.  I  cannot  say  that  he  appears  equally  de- 
sirous of  pleasing,  for  he  seems  to  neglect  attentions  and  the  graces. 
He  does  not  come  into  a  room  well,  nor  has  he  that  easy,  noble  car- 
riage, which  would  be  proper  for  him.  It  is  true,  he  is  as  yet  young 
and  inexperienced ;  one  may  therefore  reasonably  hope  that  his  exer- 
cises, which  he  has  not  yet  gone  through,  and  good  company,  in 
which  he  is  still  a  novice,  will  polish,  and  give  all  that  is  wanting 
to  complete  him.  What  seems  necessary  for  that  purpose,  would  be 
an  attachment  to  some  woman  of  fashion,  and  who  knows  the  world. 
Some  Madame  de  1'Ursay  would  be  the  proper  person.  In  short,  I 
can  assure  you,  that  he  has  everything  which  Lord  Chesterfield  can 
wish  him,  excepting  that  carriage,  those  graces,  and  the  style  used 
in  the  best  company ;  which  he  will  certainly  acquire  in  time,  and 
by  frequenting  the  polite  world.  If  he  should  not,  it  would  be  great 
pity,  since  he  so  well  deserves  to  possess  them.  You  know  their  im- 
portance. My  Lord,  his  father,  knows  it  too,  he  being  master  of 
them  all.  To  conclude,  if  little  Stanhope  acquires  the  graces,  I 
promise  you  he  will  make  his  way;  if  not,  he  will  be  stopped  in  a 
course,  the  goal  of  which  he  might  attain  with  honor.* 


252  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

unprofitable    way   of   traveling,  and   admits  of   no   applica- 
tion.    Adieu. 

You  see,  by  this  extract,  of  what  consequence  other  peo- 
ple think  these  things.  Therefore,  I  hope  you  will  no 
longer  look  upon  them  as  trifles.  It  is  the  character  of  an 
able  man  to  despise  little  things  in  great  business  :  but  then 
he  knows  what  things  are  little,  and  what  not.  He  does 
not  suppose  things  are  little,  because  they  are  commonly 
called  so :  but  by  the  consequences  that  may  or  may  not 
attend  them.  If  gaining  people's  affections,  and  interesting 
their  hearts  in  your  favor,  be  of  consequence,  as  it  un- 
doubtedly is,  he  knows  very  well  that  a  happy  concurrence 
of  all  those,  commonly  called  little  things,  manners,  air, 
address,  graces,  etc.,  is  of  the  utmost  consequence,  and  will 
never  be  at  rest  till  he  has  acquired  them.  The  world  is 
taken  by  the  outside  of  things,  and  we  must  take  the  world 
as  it  is ;  you  nor  I  cannot  set  it  right.  I  know,  at  this 
time,  a  man  of  great  quality  and  station,  who  has  not 
the  parts  of  a  porter;  but  raised  himself  to  the  station  he 
is  in,  singly  by  having  a  graceful  figure,  polite  manners, 
and  an  engaging  address;  which,  by  the  way,  he  only  ac- 
quired by  habit ;  for  he  had  not  sense  enough  to  get  them 
by  reflection.  Parts  and  habit  should  conspire  to  complete 
you.  You  will  have  the  habit  of  good  company,  and  you 
have  reflection  in  your  power. 


LETTER     XCIII 

LONDON,   December  5,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR    BOY:     Those    who    suppose  that   men    in    general 
act  rationally,  because  they  are    called    rational    crea- 
tures, know  very  little  of  the  world,  and  if  they  act 
themselves    upon    that    supposition,    will    nine    times  in   ten 
find    themselves    grossly   mistaken.     That   man    is,     animal 
bipes,  implume,  risibile,  I  entirely  agree  ;  but  for  the  ration- 
ale, I  can  only  allow  it  him  in  actu  priwo     (to    talk    logic) 
and  seldom  in  actu  secundo.      Thus,  the    speculative,    clois- 
tered pedant,  in  his  solitary  cell,  forms  systems  of  things  as 
they  should    be,    not  as  they  are  ;   and   writes    as   decisively 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  253 

and  absurdly  upon  war,  politics,  manners,  and  characters, 
as  that  pedant  talked,  who  was  so  kind  as  to  instruct 
Hannibal  in  the  art  of  war.  Such  closet  politicians  never 
fail  to  assign  the  deepest  motives  for  the  most  trifling 
actions ;  instead  of  often  ascribing  the  greatest  actions  to 
the  most  trifling  causes,  in  which  they  would  be  much  sel- 
domer  mistaken.  They  read  and  write  of  kings,  heroes, 
and  statesmen,  as  never  doing  anything  but  upon  the  deep- 
est principles  of  sound  policy.  But  those  who  see  and  ob- 
serve kings,  heroes,  and  statesmen,  discover  that  they  have 
headaches,  indigestions,  humors,  and  passions,  just  like  other 
people ;  everyone  of  which,  in  their  turns,  determine  their 
wills,  in  defiance  of  their  reason.  Had  we  only  read  in  the 
*Life  of  Alexander,"  that  he  burned  Persepolis,  it  would 
doubtless  have  been  accounted  for  from  deep  policy  :  we 
should  have  been  told,  that  his  new  conquest  could  not 
have  been  secured  without  the  destruction  of  that  capital, 
which  would  have  been  the  constant  seat  of  cabals,  con- 
spiracies, and  revolts.  But,  luckily,  we  are  informed  at  the 
same  time,  that  this  hero,  this  demi-god,  this  son  and  heir  of 
Jupiter  Ammon,  happened  to  get  extremely  drunk  with  his 
w — e  ;  and,  by  way  of  frolic,  destroyed  one  of  the  finest  cities 
in  the  world.  Read  men,  therefore,  yourself,  not  in  books 
but  in  nature.  Adopt  no  systems,  but  study  them  your- 
self. Observe  their  weaknesses,  their  passions,  their  humors, 
of  all  which  their  understandings  are,  nine  times  in  ten,  the 
dupes.  You  will  then  know  that  they  are  to  be  gained, 
influenced,  or  led,  much  oftener  by  little  things  than  by 
great  ones  ;  and,  consequently,  you  will  no  longer  think 
those  things  little,  which  tend  to  such  great  purposes. 

Let  us  apply  this  now  to  the  particular  object  of  this 
letter;  I  mean,  speaking  in,  and  influencing  public  assem- 
blies. The  nature  of  our  constitution  makes  eloquence 
more  useful,  and  more  necessary,  in  this  country  than  in 
any  other  in  Europe.  A  certain  degree  of  good  sense  and 
knowledge  is  requisite  for  that,  as  well  as  for  everything 
else;  but  beyond  that,  the  purity  of  diction,  the  elegance 
of  style,  the  harmony  of  periods,  a  pleasing  elocution,  and 
a  graceful  action,  are  the  things  which  a  public  speaker 
should  attend  to  the  most;  because  his  audience  certainly 
does,  and  understands  them  the  best ;  or  rather  indeed 


254  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

understands  little  else.  The  late  Lord  Chancellor  Cowper's 
strength  as  an  orator  lay  by  no  means  in  his  reasonings, 
for  he  often  hazarded  very  weak  ones.  But  such  was  the 
purity  and  elegance  of  his  style,  such  the  propriety  and 
charms  of  his  elocution,  and  such  the  gracefulness  of  his 
action,  that  he  never  spoke  without  universal  applause ;  the 
ears  and  the  eyes  gave  him  up  the  hearts  and  the  under- 
standings of  the  audience.  On  the  contrary,  the  late  Lord 
Townshend  always  spoke  materially,  with  argument  and 
knowledge,  but  never  pleased.  Why?  His  diction  was 
not  only  inelegant,  but  frequently  ungrammatical,  always 
vulgar ;  his  cadences  false,  his  voice  unharmonious,  and  his 
action  ungraceful.  Nobody  heard  him  with  patience;  and 
the  young  fellows  used  to  joke  upon  him,  and  repeat  his 
inaccuracies.  The  late  Duke  of  Argyle,  though  the  weakest 
reasoner,  was  the  most  pleasing  speaker  I  ever  knew  in  my 
life.  He  charmed,  he  warmed,  he  forcibly  ravished  the 
audience ;  not  by  his  matter  certainly,  but  by  his  manner 
of  delivering  it.  A  most  genteel  figure,  a  graceful,  noble 
air,  an  harmonious  voice,  an  elegance  of  style,  and  a 
strength  of  emphasis,  conspired  to  make  him  the  most 
affecting,  persuasive,  and  applauded  speaker  I  ever  saw.  I 
was  captivated  like  others ;  but  when  I  came  home,  and 
coolly  considered  what  he  had  said,  stripped  of  all  those 
ornaments  in  which  he  had  dressed  it,  I  often  found  the 
matter  flimsy,  the  arguments  weak,  and  I  was  convinced 
of  the  power  of  those  adventitious  concurring  circumstances, 
which  ignorance  of  mankind  only  calls  trifling  ones.  Cicero, 
in  his  book  De  Oratore,  in  order  to  raise  the  dignity  of 
that  profession  which  he  well  knew  himself  to  be  at  the 
head  of,  asserts  that  a  complete  orator  must  be  a  complete 
everything,  lawyer,  philosopher,  divine,  etc.  That  would 
be  extremely  well,  if  it  were  possible :  but  man's  life  is 
not  long  enough ;  and  I  hold  him  to  be  the  completest 
orator,  who  speaks  the  best  upon  that  subject  which  occurs ; 
whose  happy  choice  of  words,  whose  lively  imagination, 
whose  elocution  and  action  adorn  and  grace  his  matter,  at 
the  same  time  that  they  excite  the  attention  and  engage  the 
passions  of  his  audience. 

You  will  be   of   the  House  of  Commons   as    soon   as   you 
are  of  age ;  and  you  must  first  make  a  figure  there,  if  you 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  255 

would  make  a  figure,  or  a  fortune,  in  your  country.  This 
you  can  never  do  without  that  correctness  and  elegance  in 
your  own  language,  which  you  now  seem  to  neglect,  and 
which  you  have  entirely  to  learn.  Fortunately  for  you,  it 
is  to  be  learned.  Care  and  observation  will  do  it;  but  do 
not  flatter  yourself,  that  all  the  knowledge,  sense,  and 
reasoning  in  the  world  will  ever  make  you  a  popular  and 
applauded  speaker,  without  the  ornaments  and  the  graces 
of  style,  elocution,  and  action.  Sense  and  argument,  though 
coarsely  delivered,  will  have  their  weight  in  a  private 
conversation,  with  two  or  three  people  of  sense ;  but  in  a 
public  assembly  they  will  have  none,  if  naked  and  destitute 
of  the  advantages  I  have  mentioned.  Cardinal  de  Retz 
observes,  very  justly,  that  every  numerous  assembly  is  a 
mob,  influenced  by  their  passions,  humors,  and  affections, 
which  nothing  but  eloquence  ever  did  or  ever  can  engage. 
This  is  so  important  a  consideration  for  everybody  in  this 
country,  and  more  particularly  for  you,  that  I  earnestly 
recommend  it  to  your  most  serious  care  and  attention. 
Mind  your  diction,  in  whatever  language  you  either  write 
or  speak ;  contract  a  habit  of  correctness  and  elegance. 
Consider  your  style,  even  in  the  freest  conversation  and 
most  familiar  letters.  After,  at  least,  if  not  before,  you 
have  said  a  thing,  reflect  if  you  could  not  have  said  it 
better.  Where  you  doubt  of  the  propriety  or  elegance  of 
a  word  or  a  phrase,  consult  some  good  dead  or  living  authority 
in  that  language.  Use  yourself  to  translate,  from  various 
languages  into  English ;  correct  those  translations  till  they 
satisfy  your  ear,  as  well  as  your  understanding.  And  be 
convinced  of  this  truth,  that  the  best  sense  and  reason  in 
the  world  will  be  as  unwelcome  in  a  public  assembly,  with- 
out these  ornaments,  as  they  will  in  public  companies, 
without  the  assistance  of  manners  and  politeness.  If  you 
will  please  people,  you  must  please  them  in  their  own  way; 
and,  as  you  cannot  make  them  what  they  should  be,  you 
must  take  them  as  they  are.  I  repeat  it  again,  they  are 
only  to  be  taken  by  agrtmens,  and  by  what  flatters  their 
senses  and  their  hearts.  Rabelais  first  wrote  a  most  excellent 
book,  which  nobody  liked;  then,  determined  to  conform  to 
the  public  taste,  he  wrote  Gargantua  and  Pantagruel, 
which  everybody  liked,  extravagant  as  it  was.  Adieu. 


256  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER    XCIV 

LONDON,  December  9,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :  It  is  now  above  forty  years  since  I  have 
never  spoken  nor  written  one  single  word,  without 
giving  myself  at  least  one  moment's  time  to  consider 
whether  it  was  a  good  or  a  bad  one,  and  whether  I  could 
not  find  out  a  better  in  its  place.  An  unharmonious  and 
rugged  period,  at  this  time,  shocks  my  ears ;  and  I,  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  world,  will  willingly  exchange  and  give  up 
some  degree  of  rough  sense,  for  a  good  degree  of  pleasing 
sound.  I  will  freely  and  truly  own  to  you,  without  either 
vanity  or  false  modesty,  that  whatever  reputation  I  have 
acquired  as  a  speaker,  is  more  owing  to  my  constant 
attention  to  my  diction  than  to  my  matter,  which  was 
necessarily  just  the  same  as  other  people's.  When  you 
come  into  parliament,  your  reputation  as  a  speaker  will 
depend  much  more  upon  your  words,  and  your  periods, 
than  upon  the  subject.  The  same  matter  occurs  equally  to 
everybody  of  common  sense,  upon  the  same  question;  the 
dressing  it  well,  is  what  excites  the  attention  and  admira- 
tion of  the  audience. 

It  is  in  parliament  that  I  have  set  my  heart  upon  your 
making  a  figure ;  it  is  there  that  I  want  to  have  you 
justly  proud  of  yourself,  and  to  make  me  justly  proud  of 
you.  This  means  that  you  must  be  a  good  speaker  there ; 
I  use  the  word  MUST,  because  I  know  you  may  if  you  will. 
The  vulgar,  who  are  always  mistaken,  look  upon  a  speaker 
and  a  comet  with  the  same  astonishment  and  admiration, 
taking  them  both  for  preternatural  phenomena.  This  error 
discourages  many  young  men  from  attempting  that  charac- 
ter; and  good  speakers  are  willing  to  have  their  talent 
considered  as  something  very  extraordinary,  if  not  a  pecul- 
iar gift  of  God  to  his  elect.  But  let  you  and  me  analyze 
and  simplify  this  good  speaker;  let  us  strip  him  of  those 
adventitious  plumes  with  which  his  own  pride,  and  the 
ignorance  of  others,  have  decked  him,  and  we  shall  find 
the  true  definition  of  him  to  be  no  more  than  this:  A  man 
of  good  common  sense  who  reasons  justly  and  expresses 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  257 

himself  elegantly  on  that  subject  upon  which  he  speaks. 
There  is,  surely,  no  witchcraft  in  this.  A  man  of  sense, 
without  a  superior  and  astonishing  degree  of  parts,  will 
not  talk  nonsense  upon  any  subject  ;  nor  will  he,  if  he  has 
the  least  taste  or  application,  talk  inelegantly.  What  then 
does  all  this  mighty  art  and  mystery  of  speaking  in  parlia- 
ment amount  to?  Why,  no  more  than  this  :  that  the  man 
who  speaks  in  the  House  of  Commons,  speaks  in  that 
House,  and  to  four  hundred  people,  that  opinion  upon  a 
given  subject  which  he  would  make  no  difficulty  of  speak- 
ing in  any  house  in^England,  round  the  fire,  or  at  table,  to 
any  fourteen  people  whatsoever;  better  judges,  perhaps, 
and  severer  critics  of  what  he  says,  than  any  fourteen  gen- 
tlemen of  the  House  of  Commons. 

I  have  spoken  frequently  in  parliament,  and  not  always 
without  some  applause ;  and  therefore  I  can  assure  you,  from 
my  experience,  that  there  is  very  little  in  it.  The  elegance  of 
the  style,  and  the  turn  of  the  periods,  make  the  chief  im- 
pression upon  the  hearers.  Give  them  but  one  or  two 
round  and  harmonious  periods  in  a  speech,  which  they 
will  retain  and  repeat ;  and  they  will  go  home  as  well 
satisfied  as  people  do  from  an  opera,  humming  all  the 
way  one  or  two  favorite  tunes  that  have  struck  their  ears, 
and  were  easily  caught.  Most  people  have  ears,  but  few 
have  judgment ;  tickle  those  ears,  and  depend  upon  it,  you 
will  catch  their  judgments,  such  as  they  are. 

Cicero,  conscious  that  he  was  at  the  top  of  his  profession 
(for  in  his  time  eloquence  was  a  profession),  in  order  to  set 
himself  off,  defines  in  his  treatise  De  Oratore,  an  orator 
to  be  such  a  man  as  never  was,  nor  never  will  be;  and, 
by  his  fallacious  argument,  says  that  he  must  know  every 
art  and  science  whatsoever,  or  how  shall  he  speak  upon 
them?  But,  with  submission  to  so  great  an  authority,  my  def- 
inition of  an  orator  is  extremely  different  from,  and  I 
believe  much  truer  than  his.  I  call  that  man  an  orator, 
who  reasons  justly,  and  expresses  himself  elegantly,  upon 
whatever  subject  he  treats.  Problems  in  geometry,  equa- 
tions in  algebra,  processes  in  chemistry,  and  experiments  in 
anatomy,  are  never,  that  I  have  heard  of,  the  object  of 
eloquence  ;  and  therefore  I  humbly  conceive,  that  a  man 
may  be  a  very  fine  speaker,  and  yet  know  nothing  of  geom- 


258  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

etry,  algebra,  chemistry,  or  anatomy.  The  subjects  of  all 
parliamentary  debates  are  subjects  of  common  sense  singly. 
Thus  I  write  whatever  occurs  to  me,  that  I  think  may  con- 
tribute either  to  form  or  inform  you.  May  my  labor  not 
be  invain!  and  it  will  not,  if  you  will  but  have  half  the 
concern  for  yourself  that  I  have  for  you.  Adieu. 


LETTER     XCV 

LONDON,  December  12,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :     Lord    Clarendon  in  his  history  says  of  Mr. 
John  Hampden  THAT  HE  HAD  A  HEAD  TO  CONTRIVE, 

A  TONGUE  TO  PERSUADE,  AND  A  HAND  TO  EXECUTE 

ANY  MISCHIEF.  I  shall  not  now  enter  into  the  justness  of 
this  character  of  Mr.  Hampden,  to  whose  brave  stand 
against  the  illegal  demand  of  ship-money  we  owe  our  pres- 
ent liberties;  but  I  mention  it  to  you  as  the  character,  which 
with  the  alteration  of  one  single  word,  GOOD,  instead  of 
MISCHIEF,  I  would  have  you  aspire  to,  and  use  your 
utmost  endeavors  to  deserve.  The  head  to  contrive,  God 
must  to  a  certain  degree  have  given  you ;  but  it  is  in  your 
own  power  greatly  to  improve  it,  by  study,  observation,  and 
reflection.  As  for  the  TONGUE  TO  PERSUADE,  it  wholly 
depends  upon  yourself;  and  without  it  the  best  head  will 
contrive  to  very  little  purpose.  The  hand  to  execute  de- 
pends likewise,  in  my  opinion,  in  a  great  measure  upon 
yourself.  Serious  reflection  will  always  give  courage  in  a 
good  cause ;  and  the  courage  arising  from  reflection  is  of 
a  much  superior  nature  to  the  animal  and  constitutional 
courage  of  a  foot  soldier.  The  former  is  steady  and  unshaken, 
where  the  nodus  is  dignus  vindice;  the  latter  is  oftener 
improperly  than  properly  exerted,  but  always  brutally. 

The  second  member  of  my  text  (to  speak  ecclesiastically) 
shall  be  the  subject  of  my  following  discourse ;  THE  TONGUE 
TO  PERSUADE — as  judicious  preachers  recommend  those 
virtues,  which  they  think  their  several  audiences  want  the 
most  ;  such  as  truth  and  continence,  at  court ;  disinterested- 
ness, in  the  city  ;  and  sobriety,  in  the  country. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS   SON  259 

You  must  certainly,  in  the  course  of  your  little  experi- 
ence, have  felt  the  different  effects  of  elegant  and  inelegant 
speaking.  Do  you  not  suffer,  when  people  accost  you  in  a 
stammering  or  hesitating  manner,  in  an  untuneful  voice,  with 
false  accents  and  cadences;  puzzling  and  blundering  through 
solecisms,  barbarisms,  and  vulgarisms ;  misplacing  even 
their  bad  words,  and  inverting  all  method?  Does  not  this 
prejudice  you  against  their  matter,  be  it  what  it  will;  nay, 
even  against  their  persons?  I  am  sure  it  does  me.  On  the 
other  hand,  do  you  not  feel  yourself  inclined,  prepossessed, 
nay,  even  engaged  in  favor  of  those  who  address  you  in  the 
direct  contrary  manner  ?  The  effects  of  a  correct  and 
adorned  style  of  method  and  perspicuity,  are  incredible 
toward  persuasion;  they  often  supply  the  want  of  reason 
and  argument,  but,  when  used  in  the  support  of  reason 
and  argument,  they  are  irresistible.  The  French  attend 
very  much  to  the  purity  and  elegance  of  their  style,  even 
in  common  conversation ;  insomuch  that  it  is  a  character  to 
say  of  a  man  qu^il  narre  bien.  Their  conversations  fre- 
quently turn  upon  the  delicacies  of  their  language,  and 
an  academy  is  employed  in  fixing  it.  The  Crusca,  in 
Italy,  has  the  same  object ;  and  I  have  met  with  very  few 
Italians,  who  did  not  speak  their  own  language  correctly 
and  elegantly.  How  much  more  necessary  is  it  for  an 
Englishman  to  do  so,  who  is  to  speak  it  in  a  public  assem- 
bly, where  the  laws  and  liberties  of  his  country  are  the 
subjects  of  his  deliberation?  The  tongue  that  would 
persuade  there,  must  not  content  itself  with  mere  articula- 
tion. You  know  what  pains  Demosthenes  took  to  correct  his 
naturally  bad  elocution  ;  you  know  that  he  declaimed  by 
the  seaside  in  storms,  to  prepare  himself  for  the  noise  of 
the  tumultuous  assemblies  he  was  to  speak  to ;  and  you  can 
now  judge  of  the  correctness  and  elegance  of  his  style.  He 
thought  all  these  things  of  consequence,  and  he  thought 
right  ;  pray  do  you  think  so  too?  It  is  of  the  utmost 
consequence  to  you  to  be  of  that  opinion.  If  you  have 
the  least  defect  in  your  elocution,  take  the  utmost  care  and 
pains  to  correct  it.  Do  not  neglect  your  style,  whatever 
language  you  speak  in,  or  whoever  you  speak  to,  were  it 
your  footman.  Seek  always  for  the  best  words  and  the 
happiest  expressions  you  can  find.  Do  not  content  yourself 


260  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

with  being  barely  understood ;  but  adorn  your  thoughts, 
and  dress  them  as  you  would  your  person  ;  which,  however 
well  proportioned  it  might  be,  it  would  be  very  improper 
and  indecent  to  exhibit  naked,  or  even  worse  dressed  than 
people  of  your  sort  are. 

I  have  sent  you  in  a  packet  which  your  Leipsig  acquaint- 
ance, Duval,  sends  to  his  correspondent  at  Rome,  Lord 
Bolingbroke's  book,*  which  he  published  about  a  year  ago. 
I  desire  that  you  will  read  it  over  and  over  again,  with 
particular  attention  to  the  style,  and  to  all  those  beauties 
of  oratory  with  which  it  is  adorned.  Till  I  read  that  book, 
I  confess  I  did  not  know  all  the  extent  and  powers  of  the 
English  language.  Lord  Bolingbroke  has  both  a  tongue 
and  a  pen  to  persuade ;  his  manner  of  speaking  in  private 
conversation  is  full  as  elegant  as  his  writings ;  whatever 
subject  he  either  speaks  or  writes  upon,  he  adorns  with  the 
most  splendid  eloquence ;  not  a  studied  or  labored  eloquence, 
but  such  a  flowing  happiness  of  diction,  which  (from  care 
perhaps  at  first)  is  become  so  habitual  to  him,  that  even 
his  most  familiar  conversations,  if  taken  down  in  writing, 
would  bear  the  press,  without  the  least  correction  either  as 
to  method  or  style.  If  his  conduct,  in  the  former  part  of 
his  life,  had  been  equal  to  all  his  natural  and  acquired 
talents,  he  would  most  justly  have  merited  the  epithet  of 
all-accomplished.  He  is  himself  sensible  of  his  past  errors  : 
those  violent  passions  which  seduced  him  in  his  youth, 
have  now  subsided  by  age ;  and  take  him  as  he  is  now, 
the  character  of  all-accomplished  is  more  his  due  than  any 
man's  I  ever  knew  in  my  life. 

But  he  has  been  a  most  mortifying  instance  of  the  vio- 
lence of  human  passions  and  of  the  weakness  of  the  most 
exalted  human  reason.  His  virtues  and  his  vices,  his 
reason  and  his  passions,  did  not  blend  themselves  by  a 
gradation  of  tints,  but  formed  a  shining  and  sudden  con- 
trast. Here  the  darkest,  there  the  most  splendid  colors ; 
and  both  rendered  more  shining  from  their  proximity. 
Impetuosity,  excess,  and  almost  extravagance,  characterized 
not  only  his  passions,  but  even  his  senses.  His  youth  was 
distinguished  by  all  the  tumult  and  storm  of  pleasures,  in 
which  he  most  licentiously  triumphed,  disdaining  all  deco- 

*«  Letters  on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism,  on  the  Idea  of  a  Patriot  King.* 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  261 

rum.  His  fine  imagination  has  often  been  heated  and 
exhausted  with  his  body,  in  celebrating  and  deifying  the 
prostitute  of  the  night ;  and  his  convivial  joys  were  pushed 
to  all  the  extravagance  of  frantic  Bacchanals.  Those  pas- 
sions were  interrupted  but  by  a  stronger  ambition.  The 
former  impaired  both  his  constitution  and  his  character, 
but  the  latter  destroyed  both  his  fortune  and  his  reputation. 

He  has  noble  and  generous  sentiments,  rather  than  fixed 
reflected  principles  of  good  nature  and  friendship ;  but  they 
are  more  violent  than  lasting,  and  suddenly  and  often  varied 
to  their  opposite  extremes,  with  regard  to  the  same  persons. 
He  receives  the  common  attentions  of  civility  as  obliga- 
tions, which  he  returns  with  interest ;  and  resents  with 
passion  the  little  inadvertencies  of  human  nature,  which  he 
repays  with  interest  too.  Even  a  difference  of  opinion 
upon  a  philosophical  subject  would  provoke,  and  prove  him 
no  practical  philosopher  at  least. 

Notwithstanding  the  dissipation  of  his  youth,  and  the 
tumultuous  agitation  of  his  middle  age,  he  has  an  infinite 
fund  of  various  and  almost  universal  knowledge,  which, 
from  the  clearest  and  quickest  conception,  and  happiest 
memory,  that  ever  man  was  blessed  with,  he  always  carries 
about  him.  It  is  his  pocket-money,  and  he  never  has  occa- 
sion to  draw  upon  a  book  for  any  sum.  He  excels  more 
particularly  in  history,  as  his  historical  works  plainly  prove. 
The  relative  political  and  commercial  interests  of  every 
country  in  Europe,  particularly  of  his  own,  are  better 
known  to  him,  than  perhaps  to  any  man  in  it ;  but  how 
steadily  he  has  pursued  the  latter,  in  his  public  conduct, 
his  enemies,  of  all  parties  and  denominations,  tell  with  joy. 

He  engaged  young,  and  distinguished  himself  in  business; 
and  his  penetration  was  almost  intuition.  I  am  old  enough 
to  have  heard  him  speak  in  parliament.  And  I  remember 
that,  though  prejudiced  against  him  by  party,  I  felt  all 
the  force  and  charms  of  his  eloquence.  Like  Belial  in 
Milton,  (<he  made  the  worse  appear  the  better  cause. )J  All 
the  internal  and  external  advantages  and  talents  of  an  orator 
are  undoubtedly  his.  Figure,  voice,  elocution,  knowledge, 
and,  above  all,  the  purest  and  most  florid  diction,  with  the 
justest  metaphors  and  happiest  images,  had  raised  him  to 
the  post  of  Secretary  at  War,  at  four-and-twenty  years  old, 


262  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

an  age  at  which  others  are  hardly  thought  fit  for  the  small- 
est employments. 

During  his  long  exile  in  France,  he  applied  himself  to 
study  with  his  characteristical  ardor;  and  there  he  formed 
and  chiefly  executed  the  plan  of  a  great  philosophical  work. 
The  common  bounds  of  human  knowledge  are  too  narrow 
for  his  warm  and  aspiring  imagination.  He  must  go  extra 
flammantia  mcenia  Mundi,  and  explore  the  unknown  and 
unknowable  regions  of  metaphysics ;  which  open  an  un- 
bounded field  for  the  excursion  of  an  ardent  imagination ; 
where  endless  conjectures  supply  the  defect  of  unattainable 
knowledge,  and  too  often  usurp  both  its  name  and  its 
influence. 

He  has  had  a  very  handsome  person,  with  a  most  engag- 
ing address  in  his  air  and  manners ;  he  has  all  the  dignity 
and  good-breeding  which  a  man  of  quality  should  or  can 
have,  and  which  so  few,  in  this  country  at  least,  really 
have. 

He  professes  himself  a  deist ;  believing  in  a  general 
Providence,  but  doubting  of,  though  by  no  means  rejecting 
(as  is  commonly  supposed)  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and 
a  future  state. 

Upon  the  whole,  of  this  extraordinary  man,  what  can  we 
say,  but,  alas,  poor  human  nature ! 

In  your  destination,  you  will  have  frequent  occasions  to 
speak  in  public ;  to  princes  and  states  abroad ;  to  the  House 
of  Commons  at  home;  judge,  then,  whether  eloquence  is 
necessary  for  you  or  not ;  not  only  common  eloquence, 
which  is  rather  free  from  faults  than  adorned  by  beauties ; 
but  the  highest,  the  most  shining  degree  of  eloquence.  For 
God's  sake,  have  this  object  always  in  your  view  and  in 
your  thoughts.  Tune  your  tongue  early  to  persuasion ;  and 
let  no  jarring,  dissonant  accents  ever  fall  from  it.  Con- 
tract a  habit  of  speaking  well  upon  every  occasion,  and 
neglect  yourself  in  no  one.  Eloquence  and  good-breeding, 
alone,  with  an  exceeding  small  degree  of  parts  and  knowl- 
edge, will  carry  a  man  a  great  way ;  with  your  parts  and 
knowledge,  then,  how  far  will  they  not  carry  you?  Adieu. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  263 


LETTER     XCVI 

LONDON,  December  16,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY:  This  letter  will,  I  hope,  find  you  safely 
arrived  and  well  settled  at  Rome,  after  the  usual 
distresses  and  accidents  of  a  winter  journey;  which 
are  very  proper  to  teach  you  patience.  Your  stay  there  I 
look  upon  as  a  very  important  period  of  your  life;  and  I 
do  believe  that  you  will  fill  it  up  well.  I  hope  you  will 
employ  the  mornings  diligently  with  Mr.  Harte,  in  acquir- 
ing weight;  and  the  evenings  in  the  best  companies  at 
Rome,  in  acquiring  lustre.  A  formal,  dull  father,  would 
recommend  to  you  to  plod  out  the  evenings,  too,  at  home, 
over  a  book  by  a  dim  taper;  but  I  recommend  to  you  the 
evenings  for  your  pleasures,  which  are  as  much  a  part  of 
your  education,  and  almost  as  necessary  a  one,  as  your 
morning  studies.  Go  to  whatever  assemblies  or  SPEC- 
TACLES people  of  fashion  go  to,  and  when  you  are  there  do 
as  they  do.  Endeavor  to  outshine  those  who  shine  there 
the  most,  get  the  Garbo,  the  Gentilezza,  the  Leggeadria 
of  the  Italians;  make  love  to  the  most  impertinent  beauty 
of  condition  that  you  meet  with,  and  be  gallant  with  all 
the  rest.  Speak  Italian,  right  or  wrong,  to  everybody;  and 
if  you  do  but  laugh  at  yourself  first  for  your  bad  Italian, 
nobody  else  will  laugh  at  you  for  it.  That  is  the  only  way 
to  speak  it  perfectly ;  which  I  expect  you  will  do,  because 
I  am  sure  you  may,  before  you  leave  Rome.  View  the 
most  curious  remains  of  antiquity  with  a  classical  spirit ; 
and  they  will  clear  up  to  you  many  passages  of  the  clas- 
sical authors;  particularly  the  Trajan  and  Antonine  Columns; 
where  you  find  the  warlike  instruments,  the  dresses,  and 
the  triumphal  ornaments  of  the  Romans.  Buy  also  the 
prints  and  explanations  of  all  those  respectable  remains  of 
Roman  grandeur,  and  compare  them  with  the  originals. 
Most  young  travelers  are  contented  with  a  general  view  of 
those  things,  say  they  are  very  fine,  and  then  go  about 
their  business.  I  hope  you  will  examine  them  in  a  very 
different  way  Approfondisscz  everything  you  see  or  hear ; 


264  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

and  learn,  if  you  can,  the  WHY  and  the  WHEREFORE.  In- 
quire into  the  meaning  and  the  objects  of  the  innumerable 
processions,  which  you  will  see  at  Rome  at  this  time.  As- 
sist at  all  the  ceremonies,  and  know  the  reason,  or  at  least 
the  pretenses  of  them,  and  however  absurd  they  may  be, 
see  and  speak  of  them  with  great  decency.  Of  all  things, 
I  beg  of  you  not  to  herd  with  your  own  countrymen,  but 
to  be  always  either  with  the  Romans,  or  with  the  foreign 
ministers  residing  at  Rome.  You  are  sent  abroad  to  see 
the  manners  and  characters,  and  learn  the  languages  of  for- 
eign countries ;  and  not  to  converse  with  English,  in  Eng- 
lish; which  would  defeat  all  those  ends.  Among  your 
graver  company,  I  recommend  (as  I  have  done  before)  the 
Jesuits  to  you  ;  whose  learning  and  address  will  both  please 
and  improve  you ;  inform  yourself,  as  much  as  you  can,  of 
the  history,  policy,  and  practice  of  that  society,  from  the 
time  of  its  founder,  Ignatius  of  Loyola,  who  was  himself  a 
madman.  If  you  would  know  their  morality,  you  will  find  it 
fully  and  admirably  stated  in  Les  Lettres  (Tun  Provincial, 
by  the  famous  Monsieur  Pascal ;  and  it  is  a  book  very  well 
worth  your  reading.  Few  people  see  what  they  see,  or 
hear  what  they  hear ;  that  is,  they  see  and  hear  so  inat- 
tentively and  superficially,  that  they  are  very  little  the 
better  for  what  they  do  see  and  hear.  This,  I  dare  say, 
neither  is,  nor  will  be  your  case.  You  will  understand,  re- 
flect upon,  and  consequently  retain,  what  you  see  and  hear. 
You  have  still  two  years  good,  but  no  more,  to  form  your 
character  in  the  world  decisively;  for,  within  two  months 
after  your  arrival  in  England,  it  will  be  finally  and  irrevo- 
cably determined,  one  way  or  another,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
public.  Devote,  therefore,  these  two  years  to  the  pursuit 
of  perfection ;  which  ought  to  be  everybody's  object,  though 
in  some  particulars  unattainable ;  those  who  strive  and  labor 
the  most,  will  come  the  nearest  to  it.  But,  above  all  things, 
aim  at  it  in  the  two  important  arts  of  speaking  and  pleas- 
ing; without  them  all  your  other  talents  are  maimed  and 
crippled.  They  are  the  wings  upon  which  you  must  soar 
above  other  people;  without  them  you  will  only  crawl  with 
the  dull  mass  of  mankind.  Prepossess  by  your  air,  address, 
and  manners;  persuade  by  your  tongue;  and  you  will  easily 
execute  what  your  head  has  contrived.  I  desire  that  you 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  365 

will  send  me  very  minute  accounts  from  Rome,  not  of  what 
you  see,  but  of  who  you  see ;  of  your  pleasures  and  enter- 
tainments. Tell  me  what  companies  you  frequent  most,  and 
how  you  are  received.  Mi  dica  anche  se  la  lingua  Italiana 
•va  bene,  e  se  lo  parla  facilmente;  ma  in  ogni  caso  bisogna 
parlarlo  sempre  per  poter  alia  Jine  parlarlo  bene  e  pulito. 
Le  donne  Vinsegnano  meglio  assai  del  maestri.  Addio  Caro 
Rag*zzo,  si  ricordi  del  Gar  bo,  della  Gentilezza,  e  della 
Leggiadria:  cose  tante  necessarie  ad  un  Cavaliero. 


LETTER    XCVII 

LONDON,   December  19,  O.  S.  1749. 

DEAR  BOY  :     The  knowledge    of  mankind  is  a  very  use- 
ful knowledge  for    everybody;  a    most    necessary  one 
for  you,  who   are   destined    to    an  active,   public  life. 
You  will  have  to  do  with  all  sorts  of  characters ;  you  should, 
therefore,   know  them  thoroughly,  in  order  to  manage  them 
ably.     This  knowledge  is  not  to    be    gotten    systematically; 
you  must  acquire  it  yourself   by  your  own    observation  and 
sagacity;  I  will  give  you  such  hints  as  I  think  may  be  useful 
land-marks  in  your  intended  progress. 

I  have  often  told  you  (and  it  is  most  true)  that,  with 
regard  to  mankind,  we  must  not  draw  general  conclusions 
from  certain  particular  principles,  though,  in  the  main,  true 
ones.  We  must  not  suppose  that,  because  a  man  is  a 
rational  animal,  he  will  therefore  always  act  rationally;  or, 
because  he  has  such  or  such  a  predominant  passion,  that  he 
will  act  invariably  and  consequentially  in  the  pursuit  of  it. 
No.  We  are  complicated  machines :  and  though  we  have 
one  main-spring,  that  gives  motion  to  the  whole,  we  have 
an  infinity  of  little  wheels,  which,  in  their  turns,  retard, 
precipitate,  and  sometimes  stop  that  motion.  Let  us  ex- 
emplify. I  will  suppose  ambition  to  be  (as  it  commonly 
is)  the  predominant  passion  of  a  minister  of  state;  and  I 
will  suppose  that  minister  to  be  an  able  one.  Will  he, 
therefore,  invariably  pursue  the  object  of  that  predominant 
passion?  May  I  be  sure  that  he  will  do  so  and  so,  because 
he  ought?  Nothing  less.  Sickness  or  low  spirits,  may 


266  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

damp  this  predominant  passion ;  humor  and  peevishness  may 
triumph  over  it ;  inferior  passions  may,  at  times,  surprise  it 
and  prevail.  Is  this  ambitious  statesman  amorous  ?  Indis- 
creet and  unguarded  confidences,  made  in  tender  moments, 
to  his  wife  or  his  mistress,  may  defeat  all  his  schemes.  Is 
he  avaricious?  Some  great  lucrative  object,  suddenly  pre- 
senting itself,  may  unravel  all  the  work  of  his  ambition. 
Is  he  passionate?  Contradiction  and  provocation  (some- 
times, it  may  be,  too,  artfully  intended)  may  extort  rash 
and  inconsiderate  expressions,  or  actions  destructive  of  his 
main  object.  Is  he  vain,  and  open  to  flattery?  An  artful, 
flattering  favorite  may  mislead  him ;  and  even  laziness  may, 
at  certain  moments,  make  him  neglect  or  omit  the  necessary 
steps  to  that  height  at  which  he  wants  to  arrive.  Seek 
first,  then,  for  the  predominant  passion  of  the  character 
which  you  mean  to  engage  and  influence,  and  address  your- 
self to  it;  but  without  defying  or  despising  the  inferior 
passions ;  get  them  in  your  interest  too,  for  now  and  then 
they  will  have  their  turns.  In  many  cases,  you  may  not 
have  it  in  your  power  to  contribute  to  the  gratification  of 
the  prevailing  passion;  then  take  the  next  best  to  your  aid. 
There  are  many  avenues  to  every  man ;  and  when  you  can- 
not get  at  him  through  the  great  one,  try  the  serpentine 
ones,  and  you  will  arrive  at  last. 

There  are  two  inconsistent  passions,  which,  however,  fre- 
quently accompany  each  other,  like  man  and  wife;  and 
which,  like  man  and  wife  too,  are  commonly  clogs  upon 
each  other.  I  mean  ambition  and  avarice:  the  latter  is 
often  the  true  cause  of  the  former,  and  then  is  the  pre- 
dominant passion.  It  seems  to  have  been  so  in  Cardinal 
Mazarin,  who  did  anything,  submitted  to  anything,  and  for- 
gave anything,  for  the  sake  of  plunder.  He  loved  and 
courted  power,  like  a  usurer,  because  it  carried  profit  along 
with  it.  Whoever  should  have  formed  his  opinion,  or  taken 
his  measures,  singly,  from  the  ambitious  part  of  Cardinal 
Mazarin's  character,  would  have  found  himself  often  mis- 
taken. Some  who  had  found  this  out,  made  their  fortunes 
by  letting  him  cheat  them  at  play.  On  the  contrary, 
Cardinal  Richelieu's  prevailing  passion  seems  to  have  been 
ambition,  and  his  immense  riches  only  the  natural  con- 
sequences of  that  ambition  gratified;  and  yet,  I  make  no 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  267 

doubt,  but  that  ambition  had  now  and  then  its  turn  with 
the  former,  and  avarice  with  the  latter.  Richelieu  (by  the 
way)  is  so  strong  a  proof  of  the  inconsistency  of  human 
nature,  that  I  cannot  help  observing  to  you,  that  while  he 
absolutely  governed  both  his  king  and  his  country,  and 
was,  in  a  great  degree,  the  arbiter  of  the  fate  of  all  Europe, 
he  was  more  jealous  of  the  great  reputation  of  Corneille 
than  of  the  power  of  Spain;  and  more  flattered  with  being 
thought  (what  he  was  not)  the  best  poet,  than  with  being 
thought  (what  he  certainly  was)  the  greatest  statesman  in 
Europe ;  and  affairs  stood  still  while  he  was  concerting  the 
criticism  upon  the  Cid.  Could  one  think  this  possible,  if 
one  did  not  know  it  to  be  true?  Though  men  are  all  of 
one  composition,  the  several  ingredients  are  so  differently 
proportioned  in  each  individual,  that  no  two  are  exactly 
alike ;  and  no  one  at  all  times  like  himself.  The  ablest 
man  will  sometimes  do  weak  things;  the  proudest  man, 
mean  things;  the  honestest  man,  ill  things;  and  the  wicked- 
est man,  good  ones.  Study  individuals  then,  and  if  you 
take  (as  you  ought  to  do)  their  outlines  from  their  prevail- 
ing passion,  suspend  your  last  finishing  strokes  till  you  have 
attended  to,  and  discovered  the  operations  of  their  inferior 
passions,  appetites,  and  humors.  A  man's  general  character 
may  be  that  of  the  honestest  man  of  the  world  :  do  not  dis- 
pute it;  you  might  be  thought  envious  or  ill-natured;  but, 
at  the  same  time,  do  not  take  this  probity  upon  trust  to 
such  a  degree  as  to  put  your  life,  fortune,  or  reputation  in 
his  power.  This  honest  man  may  happen  to  be  your  rival 
in  power,  in  interest,  or  in  love ;  three  passions  that  often 
put  honesty  to  most  severe  trials,  in  which  it  is  too  often 
cast ;  but  first  analyze  this  honest  man  yourself ;  and  then 
only  you  will  be  able  to  judge  how  far  you  may,  or  may 
not,  with  safety  trust  him. 

Women  are  much  more  like  each  other  than  men :  they 
have,  in  truth,  but  two  passions,  vanity  and  love;  these  are 
their  universal  characteristics.  An  Agrippina  may  sacrifice 
them  to  ambition,  or  a  Messalina  to  lust;  but  those  in- 
stances are  rare ;  and,  in  general,  all  they  say,  and  all  they 
do,  tends  to  the  gratification  of  their  vanity  or  their  love. 
He  who  flatters  them  most,  pleases  them  best ;  and  they  are 
the  most  in  love  with  him,  who  they  think  is  the  most  in 


268  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

love  with  them.  No  adulation  is  too  strong  for  them;  no 
assiduity  too  great;  no  simulation  of  passion  too  gross;  as, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  least  word  or  action  that  can  pos- 
sibly be  construed  into  a  slight  or  contempt,  is  unpardonable, 
and  never  forgotten.  Men  are  in  this  respect  tender  too, 
and  will  sooner  forgive  an  injury  than  an  insult.  Some 
men  are  more  captious  than  others ;  some  are  always  wrong- 
headed;  but  every  man  living  has  such  a  share  of  vanity, 
as  to  be  hurt  by  marks  of  slight  and  contempt.  Every 
man  does  not  pretend  to  be  a  poet,  a  mathematician,  or  a 
statesman,  and  considered  as  such ;  but  every  man  pretends 
to  common  sense,  and  to  fill  his  place  in  the  world  with 
common  decency ;  and,  consequently,  does  not  easily  forgive 
those  negligences,  inattentions  and  slights  which  seem  to  call 
in  question,  or  utterly  deny  him  both  these  pretensions. 

Suspect,  in  general,  those  who  remarkably  affect  any  one 
virtue ;  who  raise  it  above  all  others,  and  who,  in  a  man- 
ner, intimate  that  they  possess  it  exclusively.  I  say  suspect 
them,  for  they  are  commonly  impostors ;  but  do  not  be  sure 
that  they  are  always  so;  for  I  have  sometimes  known  saints 
really  religious,  blusterers  really  brave,  reformers  of  manners 
really  honest,  and  prudes  really  chaste.  Pry  into  the  re- 
cesses of  their  hearts  yourself,  as  far  as  you  are  able,  and 
never  implicitly  adopt  a  character  upon  common  fame; 
which,  though  generally  right  as  to  the  great  outlines  of 
characters,  is  always  wrong  in  some  particulars. 

Be  upon  your  guard  against  those  who  upon  very  slight 
acquaintance,  obtrude  their  unasked  and  unmerited  friend- 
ship and  confidence  upon  you;  for  they  probably  cram  you 
with  them  only  for  their  own  eating;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  do  not  roughly  reject  them  upon  that  general  supposi- 
tion. Examine  further,  and  see  whether  those  unexpected 
offers  flow  from  a  warm  heart  and  a  silly  head,  or  from  a 
designing  head  and  a  cold  heart;  for  knavery  and  folly 
have  often  the  same  symptoms.  In  the  first  case,  there  is 
no  danger  in  accepting  them,  valeant  quantum  valere 
possunt.  In  the  latter  case,  it  may  be  useful  to  seem  to 
accept  them,  and  artfully  to  turn  the  battery  upon  him 
who  raised  it. 

There  is  an  incontinency  of  friendship  among  young 
fellows,  who  are  associated  by  their  mutual  pleasures  only, 


LETTERS   TO    HIS  SON  269 

which  has,  very  frequently,  bad  consequences.  A  parcel  of 
warm  hearts  and  inexperienced  heads,  heated  by  convivial 
mirth,  and  possibly  a  little  too  much  wine,  vow,  and  really 
mean  at  the  time,  eternal  friendships  to  each  other,  and 
indiscreetly  pour  out  their  whole  souls  in  common,  and 
without  the  least  reserve.  These  confidences  are  as  indis- 
creetly repealed  as  they  were  made;  for  new  pleasures  and 
new  places  soon  dissolve  this  ill-cemented  connection;  and 
then  very  ill  uses  are  made  of  these  rash  confidences.  Bear 
your  part,  however,  in  young  companies ;  nay,  excel,  if  you 
can,  in  all  the  social  and  convivial  joy  and  festivity  that 
become  youth.  Trust  them  with  your  love  tales,  if  you 
please;  but  keep  your  serious  views  secret.  Trust  those 
only  to  some  tried  friend,  more  experienced  than  yourself, 
and  who,  being  in  a  different  walk  of  life  from  you,  is 
not  likely  to  become  your  rival ;  for  I  would  not  advise 
you  to  depend  so  much  upon  the  heroic  virtue  of  mankind, 
as  to  hope  or  believe  that  your  competitor  will  ever  be 
your  friend,  as  to  the  object  of  that  competition. 

These  are  reserves  and  cautions  very  necessary  to  have, 
but  very  imprudent  to  show ;  the  volto  sciolto  should  accom- 
pany them.  Adieu. 


LETTER    XCVIII 

DEAR  Bov :     Great    talents    and    great    virtues      (if   you 
should  have  them)     will  procure  you  the  respect  and 
the  admiration  of  mankind;  but  it  is  the  lesser  talents, 
the    leniores  virtutes,    which    must    procure    you    their    love 
and   affection.     The    former,    unassisted    and    unadorned   by 
the  latter,  will    extort    praise;  but  will,  at    the    same    time, 
excite  both  fear  and  envy;  two  sentiments  absolutely  incom- 
patible with  love  and  affection. 

Caesar  had  all  the  great  vices,  and  Cato  all  the  great 
virtues,  that  men  could  have.  But  Caesar  had  the  leniores 
-virtutes  which  Cato  wanted,  and  which  made  him  beloved, 
even  by  his  enemies,  and  gained  him  the  hearts  of  man- 
kind, in  spite  of  their  reason :  while  Cato  was  not  even 
beloved  by  his  friends,  notwithstanding  the  esteem  and 


270  LORD  .CHESTERFIELD'S 

respect  which  they  could  not  refuse  to  his  virtues;  and  I 
am  apt  to  think,  that  if  Caesar  had  wanted,  and  Cato 
possessed,  those  leniores  virtutes,  the  former  would  not  have 
attempted  (at  least  with  success),  and  the  latter  could  have 
protected,  the  liberties  of  Rome.  Mr.  Addisons  in  his 
"Cato,"  says  of  Caesar  (and  I  believe  with  truth), — 

<(  Curse  on  his  virtues,  they've  undone  his  country. » 

By  which  he  means  those  lesser,  but  engaging  virtues  of 
gentleness,  affability,  complaisance,  and  good  humor.  The 
knowledge  of  a  scholar,  the  courage  of  a  hero,  and  the 
virtue  of  a  Stoic,  will  be  admired ;  but  if  the  knowledge 
be  accompanied  with  arrogance,  the  courage  with  ferocity, 
and  the  virtue  with  inflexible  severity,  the  man  will  never 
be  loved.  The  heroism  of  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  (if  his 
brutal  courage  deserves  that  name)  was  universally  admired, 
but  the  man  nowhere  beloved.  Whereas  Henry  IV.  of 
France,  who  had  full  as  much  courage,  and  was  much 
longer  engaged  in  wars,  was  generally  beloved  upon  account 
of  his  lesser  and  social  virtues.  We  are  all  so  formed,  that 
our  understandings  are  generally  the  DUPES  of  our  hearts, 
that  is,  of  our  passions ;  and  the  surest  way  to  the  former 
is  through  the  latter,  which  must  be  engaged  by  the 
leniores  virtutes  alone,  and  the  manner  of  exerting  them. 
The  insolent  civility  of  a  proud  man  is  (for  example)  if 
possible,  more  shocking  than  his  rudeness  could  be ;  because 
he  shows  you  by  his  manner  that  he  thinks  it  mere  con- 
descension in  him ;  and  that  his  goodness  alone  bestows 
upon  you  what  you  have  no  pretense  to  claim.  He  intimates 
his  protection,  instead  of  his  friendship,  by  a  gracious  nod, 
instead  of  a  usual  bow ;  and  rather  signifies  his  consent 
that  you  may,  than  his  invitation  that  you  should  sit, 
walk,  eat,  or  drink  with  him. 

The  costive  liberality  of  a  purse-proud  man  insults  the 
distresses  it  sometimes  relieves;  he  takes  care  to  make  you 
feel  your  own  misfortunes,  and  the  difference  between  your 
situation  and  his;  both  which  he  insinuates  to  be  justly 
merited:  yours,  by  your  folly;  his,  by  his  wisdom.  The 
arrogant  pedant  does  not  communicate,  but  promulgates  his 
knowledge.  He  does  not  give  it  you,  but  he  inflicts  it 
upon  you;  and  is  (if  possible)  more  desirous  to  show  you 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  271 

your  own  ignorance  than  his  own  learning.  Such  manners 
as  these,  not  only  in  the  particular  instances  which  I  have 
mentioned,  but  likewise  in  all  others,  shock  and  revolt 
that  little  pride  and  vanity  which  every  man  has  in  his 
heart ;  and  obliterate  in  us  the  obligation  for  the  favor  con- 
ferred, by  reminding  us  of  the  motive  which  produced,  and 
the  manner  which  accompanied  it. 

These  faults  point  out  their  opposite  perfections,  and 
your  own  good  sense  will  naturally  suggest  them  to  you. 

But  besides  these  lesser  virtues,  there  are  what  may  be 
called  the  lesser  talents,  or  accomplishments,  which  are  of 
great  use  to  adorn  and  recommend  all  the  greater ;  and  the 
more  so,  as  all  people  are  judges  of  the  one,  and  but  few  are 
of  the  other.  Everybody  feels  the  impression,  which  an 
engaging  address,  an  agreeable  manner  of  speaking,  and  an 
easy  politeness,  makes  upon  them;  and  they  prepare  the 
way  for  the  favorable  reception  of  their  betters.  Adieu. 


LETTER    XCIX 

LONDON,  December  26,  O.  S.  1749. 

Mv  DEAR  FRIEND  :    The  new  year  is  the  season  in  which 
custom  seems  more  particularly  to  authorize  civil  and 
harmless  lies,  under  the  name  of  compliments.     People 
reciprocally   profess    wishes    which    they    seldom    form ;  and 
concern,  which  they  seldom  feel.    This  is  not  the  case  between 
you  and  me,  where  truth  leaves  no  room  for  compliments. 

Dii  tibi  dent  annos,  de  te  nam  ccetera  sumes,  was  said 
formerly  to  one  by  a  man  who  certainly  did  not  think  it. 
With  the  variation  of  one  word  only,  I  will  with  great  truth 
say  it  to  you.  I  will  make  the  first  part  conditional  by 
changing,  in  the  second,  the  nam  into  si.  May  you  live  as 
long  as  you  are  fit  to  live,  but  no  longer!  or  may  you  rather 
die  before  you  cease  to  be  fit  to  live,  than  after!  My  true 
tenderness  for  you  makes  me  think  more  of  the  manner 
than  of  the  length  of  your  life,  and  forbids  me  to  wish  it 
prolonged,  by  a  single  day,  that  should  bring  guilt,  reproach, 
and  shame  upon  you.  I  have  not  malice  enough  in  my  na- 
ture, to  wish  that  to  my  greatest  enemy.  You  are  the 


272  LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S 

principal  object  of  all  my  cares,  the  only  object  of  all  my 
hopes;  I  have  now  reason  to  believe,  that  you  will  reward 
the  former,  and  answer  the  latter;  in  that  case,  may  you  live 
long,  for  you  must  live  happy;  de  te  nam  ccetera  sumes. 
Conscious  virtue  is  the  only  solid  foundation  of  all  happi- 
ness ;  for  riches,  power,  rank,  or  whatever,  in  the  common 
acceptation  of  the  word,  is  supposed  to  constitute  happi- 
ness, will  never  quiet,  much  less  cure,  the  inward  pangs  of 
guilt.  To  that  main  wish,  I  will  add  those  of  the  good 
old  nurse  of  Horace,  in  his  epistle  to  Tibullus :  Sapere,  you 
have  it  in  a  good  degree  already.  Et  fari  ut  possit  qua 
sentiat.  Have  you  that?  More,  much  more  is  meant  by  it, 
than  common  speech  or  mere  articulation.  I  fear  that  still 
remains  to  be  wished  for,  and  I  earnestly  wish  it  to  you. 
Gratia  and  Fama  will  inevitably  accompany  the  above- 
mentioned  qualifications.  The  Valetudo  is  the  only  one  that  is 
not  in  your  own  power;  Heaven  alone  can  grant  it  you, 
and  may  it  do  so  abundantly!  As  for  the  mundus  victus, 
non  deficiente  crumena,  do  you  deserve,  and  I  will  provide 
them. 

It  is  with  the  greatest  pleasure  that  I  consider  the  fair 
prospect  which  you  have  before  you.  You  have  seen,  read,  and 
learned  more,  at  your  age,  than  most  young  fellows  have  done 
at  two  or  three-and-twenty.  Your  destination  is  a  shining 
one,  and  leads  to  rank,  fortune,  and  distinction.  Your  edu- 
cation has  been  calculated  for  it;  and,  to  do  you  justice, 
that  education  has  not  been  thrown  away  upon  you.  You 
want  but  two  things,  which  do  not  want  conjuration,  but 
only  care,  to  acquire:  eloquence  and  manners;  that  is,  the 
graces  of  speech,  and  the  graces  of  behavior.  You  may 
have  them;  they  are  as  much  in  your  power  as  powdering 
your  hair  is;  and  will  you  let  the  want  of  them  obscure 
(as  it  certainly  will  do)  that  shining  prospect  which  pre- 
sents itself  to  you.  I  am  sure  you  will  not.  They  are  the 
sharp  end,  the  point  of  the  nail  that  you  are  driving,  which 
must  make  way  first  for  the  larger  and  more  solid  parts  to 
enter.  Supposing  ypur  moral  character  as  pure,  and  your 
knowledge  as  sound,  as  I  really  believe  them  both  to  be ; 
you  want  nothing  for  that  perfection,  which  I  have  so  con- 
stantly wished  you,  and  taken  so  much  pains  to  give  you, 
but  eloquence  and  politeness.  A  man  who  is  not  born 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  273 

with  a  poetical  genius,  can  never  be  a  poet,  or  at  best  an 
extremely  bad  one ;  but  every  man,  who  can  speak  at  all, 
can  speak  elegantly  and  correctly  if  he  pleases,  by  attend- 
ing to  the  best  authors  and  orators ;  and,  indeed,  I  would 
advise  those  who  do  not  speak  elegantly,  not  to  speak  at 
all ;  for  I  am  sure  they  will  get  more  by  their  silence  than 
by  their  speech.  As  for  politeness:  whoever  keeps  good 
company,  and  is  not  polite,  must  have  formed  a  resolution, 
and  take  some  pains  not  to  be  so ;  otherwise  he  would  nat- 
urally and  insensibly  take  the  air,  the  address,  and  the  turn 
of  those  he  converses  with.  You  will,  probably,  in  the 
course  of  this  year,  see  as  great  a  variety  of  good  company 
in  the  several  capitals  you  will  be  at,  as  in  any  one  year 
of  your  life;  and  consequently  must  (I  should  hope)  catch 
some  of  their  manners,  almost  whether  you  will  or  not; 
but,  as  I  dare  say  you  will  endeavor  to  do  it,  I  am  con- 
vinced you  will  succeed,  and  that  I  shall  have  pleasure  of 
finding  you,  at  your  return  here,  one  of  the  best-bred  men 
in  Europe.' 

I  imagine,  that  when  you  receive  my  letters,  and  come 
to  those  parts  of  them  which  relate  to  eloquence  and  polite- 
ness, you  say,  or  at  least  think,  What,  will  he  never  have 
done  upon  those  two  subjects?  Has  he  not  said  all  he  can 
say  upon  them?  Why  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again? 
If  you  do  think  or  say  so,  it  must  proceed  from  your  not 
yet  knowing  the  infinite  importance  of  these  two  accom- 
plishments, which  I  cannot  recommend  to  you  too  often, 
nor  inculcate  too  strongly.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  you 
are  convinced  of  the  utility,  or  rather  the  necessity  of  those 
two  accomplishments,  and  are  determined  to  acquire  them, 
my  repeated  admonitions  are  only  unnecessary;  and  I  grudge 
no  trouble  which  can  possibly  be  of  the  least  use  to  you. 

I  flatter  myself,  that  your  stay  at  Rome  will  go  a  great 
way  toward  answering  all  my  views:  I  am  sure  it  will,  if 
you  employ  your  time,  and  your  whole  time,  as  you  should. 
Your  first  morning  hours,  I  would  have  you  devote  to  your 
graver  studies  with  Mr.  Harte ;  the  middle  part  of  the  day 
I  would  have  employed  in  seeing  things ;  and  the  evenings 
in  seeing  people.  You  are  not,  I  hope,  of  a  lazy,  inactive 
turn,  in  either  body  or  mind;  and,  in  that  case,  the  day  is 
full  long  enough  for  everything ;  especially  at  Rome,  where 
18 


274  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

it  is  not  the  fashion,  as  it  is  here  and  at  Paris,  to  embezzle 
at  least  half  of  it  at  table.  But  if,  by  accident,  two  or 
three  hours  are  sometimes  wanting  for  some  useful  purpose, 
borrow  them  from  your  sleep.  Six,  or  at  most  seven  hours 
sleep  is,  for  a  constancy,  as  much  as  you  or  anybody  can 
want;  more  is  only  laziness  and  dozing;  and  is,  I  am  per- 
suaded, both  unwholesome  and  stupefying.  If,  by  chance, 
your  business,  or  your  pleasures,  should  keep  you  up  till 
four  or  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  would  advise  you, 
however,  to  rise  exactly  at  your  usual  time,  that  you  may  not 
lose  the  precious  morning  hours ;  and  that  the  want  of  sleep 
may  force  you  to  go  to  bed  earlier  the  next  night.  This  is 
what  I  was  advised  to  do  when  very  young,  by  a  very 
wise  man;  and  what,  I  assure  you,  I  always  did  in  the 
most  dissipated  part  of  my  life.  I  have  very  often  gone  to 
bed  at  six  in  the  morning  and  rose,  notwithstanding,  at 
eight;  by  which  means  I  got  many  hours  in  the  morning 
that  my  companions  lost ;  and  the  want  of  sleep  obliged 
me  to  keep  good  hours  the  next,  or  at  least  the  third  night. 
To  this  method  I  owe  the  greatest  part  of  my  reading:  for, 
from  twenty  to  forty,  I  should  certainly  have  read  very  lit- 
tle, if  I  had  not  been  up  while  my  acquaintances  were  in 
bed.  Know  the  true  value  of  time ;  snatch,  seize,  and  en- 
joy every  moment  of  it.  No  idleness,  no  laziness,  no  pro- 
crastination ;  never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  you  can  do 
to-day.  That  was  the  rule  of  the  famous  and  unfortunate 
Pensionary  De  Witt ;  who,  by  strictly  following  it,  found 
time,  not  only  to  do  the  whole  business  of  the  republic,  but 
to  pass  his  evenings  at  assemblies  and  suppers,  as  if  he  had 
had  nothing  else  to  do  or  think  of. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend,  for  such  I  shall  call  you,  and  as 
such  I  shall,  for  the  future,  live  with  you ;  for  I  disclaim 
all  titles  which  imply  an  authority,  that  I  am  persuaded 
you  will  never  give  me  occasion  to  exercise. 

Multos  et  f dices,  most  sincerely,  to  Mr.  Harte. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  275 


LETTER    C 

LONDON,  January  8,  O.  S.  1750. 

DEAR  BOY:  I  have  seldom  or  never  written  to  you  upon 
the  subject  of  religion  and  morality ;  your  own  reason, 
I  am  persuaded,  has  given  you  true  notions  of  both ; 
they  speak  best  for  themselves  ;  but  if  they  wanted  assist- 
ance, you  have  Mr.  Harte  at  hand,  both  for  precept  and 
example ;  to  your  own  reason,  therefore,  and  to  Mr.  Harte, 
shall  I  refer  you  for  the  reality  of  both,  and  confine  my- 
self in  this  letter  to  the  decency,  the  utility,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  scrupulously  preserving  the  appearances  of  both. 
When  I  say  the  appearances  of  religion,  I  do  not  mean  that 
you  should  talk  or  act  like  a  missionary  or  an  enthusiast, 
nor  that  you  should  take  up  a  controversial  cudgel  against 
whoever  attacks  the  sect  you  are  of ;  this  would  be  both 
useless  and  unbecoming  your  age  ;  but  I  mean  that  you 
should  by  no  means  seem  to  approve,  encourage,  or  ap- 
plaud, those  libertine  notions,  which  strike  at  religions 
equally,  and  which  are  the  poor  threadbare  topics 
of  half-wits  and  minute  philosophers.  Even  those  who 
are  silly  enough  to  laugh  at  their  jokes,  are  still  wise 
enough  to  distrust  and  detest  their  characters ;  for  put- 
ting moral  virtues  at  the  highest,  and  religion  at  the 
lowest,  religion  must  still  be  allowed  to  be  a  collateral 
security,  at  least,  to  virtue,  and  every  prudent  man  will 
sooner  trust  to  two  securities  than  to  one.  Whenever,  there- 
fore, you  happen  to  be  in  company  with  those  pretended 
Esprits  forts,  or  with  thoughtless  libertines,  who  laugh  at 
all  religion  to  show  their  wit,  or  disclaim  it,  to  complete 
their  riot,  let  no  word  or  look  of  yours  intimate  the  least 
approbation  ;  on  the  contrary,  let  a  silent  gravity  express 
your  dislike  :  but  enter  not  into  the  subject  and  decline 
such  unprofitable  and  indecent  controversies.  Depend  upon 
this  truth,  that  every  man  is  the  worse  looked  upon,  and 
the  less  trusted  for  being  thought  to  have  no  religion ;  in 
spite  of  all  the  pompous  and  specious  epithets  he  may  as- 
sume, of  Esprit  fort,  freethinker,  or  moral  philosopher; 


276  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

and  a  wise  atheist  (if  such  a  thing  there  is)  would,  for 
his  own  interest  and  character  in  this  world,  pretend  to 
some  religion. 

Your  moral  character  must  be  not  only  pure,  but,  like 
Caesar's  wife,  unsuspected.  The  least  speck  or  blemish  upon 
it  is  fatal.  Nothing  degrades  and  vilifies  more,  for  it  ex- 
cites and  unites  detestation  and  contempt.  There  are,  how- 
ever, wretches  in  the  world  profligate  enough  to  explode 
all  notions  of  moral  good  and  evil  ;  to  maintain  that  they 
are  merely  local,  and  depend  entirely  upon  the  customs  and 
fashions  of  different  countries  ;  nay,  there  are  still,  if  pos- 
sible, more  unaccountable  wretches ;  I  mean  those  who  affect 
to  preach  and  propagate  such  absurd  and  infamous  notions 
without  believing  them  themselves.  These  are  the  devil's 
hypocrites.  Avoid,  as  much  as  possible,  the  company  of 
such  people  ;  who  reflect  a  degree  of  discredit  and  infamy 
upon  all  who  converse  with  them.  But  as  you  may,  some- 
times, by  accident,  fall  into  such  company,  take  great  care 
that  no  complaisance,  no  good-humor,  no  warmth  of  festal 
mirth,  ever  make  you  seem  even  to  acquiesce,  much  less  to 
approve  or  applaud,  such  infamous  doctrines.  On  the  other 
hand,  do  not  debate  nor  enter  into  serious  argument  upon 
a  subject  so  much  below  it  :  but  content  yourself  with  tell- 
ing these  APOSTLES  that  you  know  they  are  not  serious; 
that  you  have  a  much  better  opinion  of  them  than  they 
would  have  you  have  ;  and  that,  you  are  very  sure,  they 
would  not  practice  the  doctrine  they  preach.  But  put 
your  private  mark  upon  them,  and  shun  them  forever  after- 
ward. 

There  is  nothing  so  delicate  as  your  moral  character,  and 
nothing  which  it  is  your  interest  so  much  to  preserve  pure. 
Should  you  be  suspected  of  injustice,  malignity,  perfidy, 
lying,  etc.,  all  the  parts  and  knowledge  in  the  world  will 
never  procure  you  esteem,  friendship,  or  respect.  A  strange 
concurrence  of  circumstances  has  sometimes  raised  very  bad 
men  to  high  stations,  but  they  have  been  raised  like  crim- 
inals to  a  pillory,  where  their  persons  and  their  crimes,  by 
being  more  conspicuous,  are  only  the  more  known,  the 
more  detested,  and  the  more  pelted  and  insulted.  If,  in 
any  case  whatsoever,  affectation  and  ostentation  are  pardon- 
able, it  is  in  the  case  of  morality ;  though  even  there,  I 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  277 

would  not  advise  you  to  a  pharisaical  pomp  of  virtue.  But 
I  will  recommend  to  you  a  most  scrupulous  tenderness  for 
your  moral  character,  and  the  utmost  care  not  to  say  or  do 
the  least  thing  that  may  ever  so  slightly  taint  it.  Show 
yourself,  upon  all  occasions,  the  advocate,  the  friend,  but 
not  the  bully  of  virtue.  Colonel  Chartres,  whom  you  have 
certainly  heard  of  (who  was,  I  believe,  the  most  notorious 
blasted  rascal  in  the  world,  and  who  had,  by  all  sorts  of 
crimes,  amassed  immense  wealth),  was  so  sensible  of  the 
disadvantage  of  a  bad  character,  that  I  heard  him  once  say, 
in  his  impudent,  profligate  manner,  that  though  he  would 
not  give  one  farthing  for  virtue,  he  would  give  ten  thousand 
pounds  for  a  character  ;  because  he  should  get  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  by  it ;  whereas,  he  was  so  blasted,  that  he 
had  no  longer  an  opportunity  of  cheating  people.  Is  it 
possible,  then,  that  an  honest  man  can  neglect  what  a  wise 
rogue  would  purchase  so  dear  ? 

There  is  one  of  the  vices  above  mentioned,  into  which  peo- 
ple of  good  education,  and,  in  the  main,  of  good  principles, 
sometimes  fall,  from  mistaken  notions  of  skill,  dexterity,  and 
self-defense ,  I  mean  lying ;  though  it  is  inseparably  attended 
with  more  infamy  and  loss  than  any  other.  The  prudence  and 
necessity  of  often  concealing  the  truth,  insensibly  seduces 
people  to  violate  it.  It  is  the  only  art  of  mean  capacities,  and 
the  only  refuge  of  mean  spirits.  Whereas,  concealing  the 
truth,  upon  proper  occasions,  is  as  prudent  and  as  innocent, 
as  telling  a  lie,  upon  any  occasion,  is  infamous  and  foolish.  I 
will  state  you  a  case  in  your  own  department.  Suppose  you 
are  employed  at  a  foreign  court,  and  that  the  minister  of  that 
court  is  absurd  or  impertinent  enough  to  ask  you  what  your 
instructions  are?  will  you  tell  him  a  lie,  which  as  soon  as 
found  out  (and  found  out  it  certainly  will  be)  must  destroy 
your  credit,  blast  your  character,  and  render  you  useless 
there?  No.  Will  you  tell  him  the  truth  then,  and  betray 
your  trust?  As  certainly,  No.  But  you  will  answer  with 
firmness,  That  you  are  surprised  at  such  a  question,  that  you 
are  persuaded  he  does  not  expect  an  answer  to  it ;  but  that, 
at  all  events,  he  certainly  will  not  have  one.  Such  an  answer 
will  give  him  confidence  in  you ;  he  will  conceive  an  opinion 
of  your  veracity,  of  which  opinion  you  may  afterward  make 
very  honest  and  fair  advantages.  But  if,  in  negotiations,  you 


278  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

are  looked  upon  as  a  liar  and  a  trickster,  no  confidence 
will  be  placed  in  you,  nothing  will  be  communicated  to 
you,  and  you  will  be  in  the  situation  of  a  man  who  has 
been  burned  in  the  cheek;  and  who,  from  that  mark,  can- 
not afterward  get  an  honest  livelihood  if  he  would,  but 
must  continue  a  thief. 

Lord  Bacon,  very  justly,  makes  a  distinction  between 
simulation  and  dissimulation;  and  allows  the  latter  rather 
than  the  former;  but  still  observes,  that  they  are  the 
weaker  sort  of  politicians  who  have  recourse  to  either.  A 
man  who  has  strength  of  mind  and  strength  of  parts, 
wants  neither  of  them.  Certainly  (says  he)  the  ablest  men 
that  ever  were,  have  all  had  an  openness  and  frankness  of 
dealing,  and  a  name  of  certainty  and  veracity;  but  then, 
they  were  like  horses  well  managed ;  for  they  could  tell, 
passing  well,  when  to  stop  or  turn ;  and  at  such  times, 
when  they  thought  the  case  indeed  required  some  dissim- 
ulation, if  then  they  used  it,  it  came  to  pass  that  the 
former  opinion  spread  abroad  of  their  good  faith  and 
clearness  of  dealing,  made  them  almost  invisible. 

There  are  people  who  indulge  themselves  in  a  sort  of 
lying,  which  they  reckon  innocent,  and  which  in  one 
sense  is  so ;  for  it  hurts  nobody  but  themselves.  This  sort 
of  lying  is  the  spurious  offspring  of  vanity,  begotten  upon 
folly :  these  people  deal  in  the  marvelous ;  they  have  seen 
some  things  that  never  existed;  they  have  seen  other 
things  which  they  never  really  saw,  though  they  did  exist, 
only  because  they  were  thought  worth  seeing.  Has  any- 
thing remarkable  been  said  or  done  in  any  place,  or  in 
any  company?  they  immediately  present  and  declare  them- 
selves eye  or  ear  witnesses  of  it.  They  have  done  feats 
themselves,  unattempted,  or  at  least  unperformed  by  others. 
They  are  always  the  heroes  of  their  own  fables;  and 
think  that  they  gain  consideration,  or  at  least  present  at- 
tention, by  it.  Whereas,  in  truth,  all  that  they  get  is 
ridicule  and  contempt,  not  without  a  good  degree  of  dis- 
trust ;  for  one  must  naturally  conclude,  that  he  who  will 
tell  any  lie  from  idle  vanity,  will  not  scruple  telling  a 
greater  for  interest.  Had  I  really  seen  anything  so  very 
extraordinary  as  to  be  almost  incredible  I  would  keep  it 
to  myself,  rather  than  by  telling  it  give  anybody  room  to 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  279 

doubt,  for  one  minute,  of  my  veracity.  It  is  most  certain, 
that  the  reputation  of  chastity  is  not  so  necessary  for  a 
women,  as  that  of  veracity  is  for  a  man ;  and  with  reason ; 
for  it  is  possible  for  a  woman  to  be  virtuous,  though  not 
strictly  chaste,  but  it  is  not  possible  for  a  man  to  be 
virtuous  without  strict  veracity.  The  slips  of  the  poor 
women  are  sometimes  mere  bodily  frailties ;  but  a  lie  in  a 
man  is  a  vice  of  the  mind  and  of  the  heart.  For  God's 
sake  be  scrupulously  jealous  of  the  purity  of  your  moral 
character;  keep  it  immaculate,  unblemished,  unsullied;  and 
it  will  be  unsuspected.  Defamation  and  calumny  never 
attack,  where  there  is  no  weak  place;  they  magnify,  but 
they  do  not  create. 

There  is  a  very  great  difference  between  the  purity  of 
character,  which  I  so  earnestly  recommend  to  you,  and  the 
stoical  gravity  and  austerity  of  character,  which  I  do  by 
no  means  recommend  to  you.  At  your  age,  I  would  no 
more  wish  you  to  be  a  Cato  than  a  Clodius.  Be,  and  be 
reckoned,  a  man  of  pleasure  as  well  as  a  man  of  business. 
Enjoy  this  happy  and  giddy  time  of  your  life;  shine  in 
the  pleasures,  and  in  the  company  of  people  of  your  own 
age.  This  is  all  to  be  done,  and  indeed  only  can  be  done, 
without  the  least  taint  to  the  purity  of  your  moral 
character ;  for  those  mistaken  young  fellows,  who  think  to 
shine  by  an  impious  or  immoral  licentiousness,  shine  only 
from  their  stinking,  like  corrupted  flesh,  in  the  dark. 
Without  this  purity,  you  can  have  no  dignity  of  character ; 
and  without  dignity  of  character  it  is  impossible  to  rise 
in  the  world.  You  must  be  respectable,  if  you  will  be  re- 
spected. I  have  known  people  slattern  away  their  char- 
acter, without  really  polluting  it;  the  consequence  of 
which  has  been,  that  they  have  become  innocently  con- 
temptible ;  their  merit  has  been  dimmed,  their  pretensions 
unregarded,  and  all  their  views  defeated.  Character  must 
be  kept  bright,  as  well  as  clean.  Content  yourself  with 
mediocrity  in  nothing.  In  purity  of  character  and  in 
politeness  of  manners  labor  to  excel  all,  if  you  wish  to 
equal  many.  Adieu. 


280  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER  CI 

LONDON,  January  n,  O.  S.  1750. 

My  DEAR  FRIEND  :  Yesterday  I  received  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Harte,  of  the  3ist  December,  N.  S.,  which  I 
will  answer  soon ;  and  for  which  I  desire  you  to 
return  him  my  thanks  now.  He  tells  me  two  things  that 
give  me  great  satisfaction  :  one  is  that  there  are  very  few 
English  at  Rome;  the  other  is,  that  you  frequent  the  best 
foreign  companies.  This  last  is  a  very  good  symptom; 
for  a  man  of  sense  is  never  desirous  to  frequent  those 
companies,  where  he  is  not  desirous  to  please,  or  where  he 
finds  that  he  displeases ;  it  will  not  be  expected  in  those 
companies,  that,  at  your  age,  you  should  have  the  Garbo, 
the  Disinvoltura,  and  the  Leggiadria  of  a  man  of  five-and- 
twenty,  who  has  been  long  used  to  keep  the  best  com- 
panies; and  therefore  do  not  be  discouraged,  and  think 
yourself  either  slighted  or  laughed  at,  because  you  see 
others,  older  and  more  used  to  the  world,  easier,  more 
familiar,  and  consequently  rather  better  received  in  those 
companies  than  yourself.  In  time  your  turn  will  come; 
and  if  you  do  but  show  an  inclination,  a  desire  to  please, 
though  you  should  be  embarrassed  or  even  err  in  the 
means,  which  must  necessarily  happen  to  you  at  first,  yet 
the  will  (to  use  a  vulgar  expression)  will  be  taken  for  the 
deed;  and  people,  instead  of  laughing  at  you,  will  be  glad 
to  instruct  you.  Good  sense  can  only  give  you  the  great 
outlines  of  good-breeding;  but  observation  and  usage  can 
alone  give  you  the  delicate  touches,  and  the  fine  coloring. 
You  will  naturally  endeavor  to  show  the  utmost  respect  to 
people  of  certain  ranks  and  characters,  and  consequently 
you  will  show  it;  but  the  proper,  the  delicate  manner  of 
showing  that  respect,  nothing  but  observation  and  time 
can  give. 

I  remember  that  when,  with  all  the  awkwardness  and 
rust  of  Cambridge  about  me,  I  was  first  introduced  into 
good  company,  I  was  frightened  out  of  my  wits.  I  was 
determined  to  be,  what  I  thought,  civil ;  I  made  fine  low 
bows,  and  placed  myself  below  everybody ;  but  when  I  was 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  281 

spoken  to,  or  attempted  to  speak  myself,  obstupui,  steter- 
untque  coma,  et  vox  faucibus  hcesit.  If  I  saw  people  whis- 
per, I  was  sure  it  was  at  me ;  and  I  thought  myself  the 
sole  object  of  either  the  ridicule  or  the  censure  of  the  whole 
company,  who,  God  knows,  did  not  trouble  their  heads 
about  me.  In  this  way  I  suffered,  for  some  time,  like  a 
criminal  at  the  bar ;  and  should  certainly  have  renounced  all 
polite  company  forever,  if  I  had  not  been  so  convinced  of 
the  absolute  necessity  of  forming  my  manners  upon  those 
of  the  best  companies,  that  I  determined  to  persevere  and 
suffer  anything,  or  everything,  rather  than  not  compass  that 
point.  Insensibly  it  grew  easier  to  me;  and  I  began  not  to 
bow  so  ridiculously  low,  and  to  answer  questions  without 
great  hesitation  or  stammering :  if,  now  and  then,  some 
charitable  people,  seeing  my  embarrassment,  and  being 
desceu-vre  themselves,  came  and  spoke  to  me,  I  considered 
them  as  angels  sent  to  comfort  me,  and  that  gave  me  a 
little  courage.  I  got  more  soon  afterward,  and  was  in- 
trepid enough  to  go  up  to  a  fine  woman,  and  tell  her  that 
I  thought  it  a  warm  day;  she  answered  me,  very  civilly, 
that  she  thought  so  too;  upon  which  the  conversation 
ceased,  on  my  part,  for  some  time,  till  she,  good-naturedly 
resuming  it,  spoke  to  me  thus:  (<  I  see  your  embarrassment, 
and  I  am  sure  that  the  few  words  you  said  to  me  cost  you 
a  great  deal ;  but  do  not  be  discouraged  for  that  reason, 
and  avoid  good  company.  We  see  that  you  desire  to  please, 
and  that  is  the  main  point ;  you  want  only  the  manner, 
and  you  think  that  you  want  it  still  more  than  you  do. 
You  must  go  through  your  noviciate  before  you  can  profess 
good-breeding :  and,  if  you  will  be  my  novice.  I  will  pre- 
sent you  my  acquaintance  as  such.* 

You  will  easily  imagine  how  much  this  speech  pleased 
me,  and  how  awkwardly  I  answered  it ;  I  hemmed  once  or 
twice  (for  it  gave  me  a  bur  in  my  throat)  before  I  could 
tell  her  that  I  was  very  much  obliged  to  her;  that  it  was 
true,  that  I  had  a  great  deal  of  reason  to  distrust  my  own 
behavior,  not  being  used  to  fine  company;  and  that  I  should 
be  proud  of  being  her  novice,  and  receiving  her  instructions. 

As  soon  as  I  had  fumbled  out  this  answer,  she  called  up 
three  or  four  people  to  her,  and  said:  Savez-vous  (for  she 
was  a  foreigner,  and  I  was  abroad)  que  J'ai  entrepris  ce 


282  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

jeune  homme,  et  qu'il  le  faut  r assurer?  Pour  moi,je  crois 
en  avoir  fait  la  conquete,  car  il  s'est  dmancipe'  dans  le 
moment  au  point  de  me  dire,  en  tremblant,  qu'il  faisoit 
chaud.  II  faut  que  vous  m?  aidiez  d  le  de"rouiller.  II  lui 
faut  nfaessairement  une  passion,  et  s'il  ne  ni'en  juge  pas 
digne,  nous  lui  en  chercherons  quelque  autre.  Au  reste, 
mon  novice,  n'allez  pas  vous  encanailler  avec  des  Jilles 
d'opdra  et  des  comediennes,  qui  vous  tpargneront  les  fraix 
et  du  sentiment  et  de  la  politesse,  mais  qui  vous  en  couteront 
bien  plus  ct  tout  autre  e"gard.  Je  vous  le  dis  encore;  si  vous 
vous  encanaillez,  vous  4tes  perdu,  mon  ami.  Ces  malheure- 
uses  ruineront  et  votre  fortune  et  votre  sante",  corromperont 
vos  moeurs,  et  vous  n'aurez  jamais  le  ton  de  la  bonne  com- 
pagnie.*  The  company  laughed  at  this  lecture,  and  I  was 
stunned  with  it.  I  did  not  know  whether  she  was  serious 
or  in  jest.  By  turns  I  was  pleased,  ashamed,  encouraged, 
and  dejected.  But  when  I  found  afterward,  that  both  she, 
and  those  to  whom  she  had  presented  me,  countenanced  and 
protected  me  in  company,  I  gradually  got  more  assurance, 
and  began  not  to  be  ashamed  of  endeavoring  to  be  civil. 
I  copied  the  best  masters,  at  first  servilely,  afterward  more 
freely,  and  at  last  I  joined  habit  and  invention. 

All  this  will  happen  to  you,  if  you  persevere  in  the 
desire  of  pleasing  and  shining  as  a  man  of  the  world;  that 
part  of  your  character  is  the  only  one  about  which  I  have 
at  present  the  least  doubt.  I  cannot  entertain  the  least 
suspicion  of  your  moral  character;  your  learned  character  is 
out  of  question.  Your  polite  character  is  now  the  only 
remaining  object  that  gives  me  the  least  anxiety;  and  you 
are  now  in  the  right  way  of  finishing  it.  Your  constant 

»  w  Do  you  know  that  I  have  undertaken  this  young  man,  and  he  must 
be  encouraged  ?  As  for  me,  I  think  I  have  made  a  conquest  of  him ;  for 
he  just  now  ventured  to  tell  me,  although  tremblingly,  that  it  is  warm. 
You  will  assist  me  in  polishing  him.  He  must  necessarily  have  a  pas- 
sion for  somebody;  if  he  does  not  think  me  worthy  of  being  the  object, 
he  will  seek  out  some  other.  However,  my  novice,  do  not  disgrace  your- 
self by  frequenting  opera  girls  and  actresses;  who  will  not  require  of 
you  sentiments  and  politeness,  but  will  be  your  ruin  in  every  respect.  I 
repeat  it  to  you,  my  friend,  if  you  should  get  into  low,  mean  company, 
you  will  be  undone.  Those  creatures  will  destroy  your  fortune  and 
your  health,  corrupt  your  morals,  and  you  will  never  acquire  the  style 
of  good  company.* 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  283 

collision  with  good  company  will,  of  course,  smooth  and 
polish  you.  I  could  wish  that  you  would  say,  to  the  five  or 
six  men  or  women  with  whom  you  are  the  most  acquainted, 
that  you  are  sensible  that,  from  youth  and  inexperience,  you 
must  make  many  mistakes  in  good-breeding;  that  you  beg 
of  them  to  correct  you,  without  reserve,  wherever  they  see 
you  fail;  and  that  you  shall  take  such  admonition  as  the 
strongest  proofs  of  their  friendship.  Such  a  confession  and 
application  will  be  very  engaging  to  those  to  whom  you 
make  them.  They  will  tell  others  of  them,  who  will  be 
pleased  with  that  disposition,  and,  in  a  friendly  manner, 
tell  you  of  any  little  slip  or  error.  The  Duke  de  Nivernois* 
would,  I  am  sure,  be  charmed,  if  you  dropped  such  a  thing 
to  him ;  adding,  that  you  loved  to  address  yourself  always 
to  the  best  masters.  Observe  also  the  different  modes  of 
good-breeding  of  several  nations,  and  conform  yourself  to 
them  respectively.  Use  an  easy  civility  with  the  French, 
more  ceremony  with  the  Italians,  and  still  more  with  the 
Germans ;  but  let  it  be  without  embarrassment  and  with 
ease.  Bring  it  by  use  to  be  habitual  to  you ;  for,  if  it 
seems  unwilling  and  forced,  it  will  never  please.  Omnis 
Aristippum  decuit  color,  et  res.  Acquire  an  easiness  and 
versatility  of  manners,  as  well  as  of  mind ;  and,  like  the 
chameleon,  take  the  hue  of  the  company  you  are  with. 

There  is  a  sort  of  veteran  women  of  condition,  who  hav- 
ing lived  always  in  the  grande  monde,  and  having  possibly 
had  some  gallantries,  together  with  the  experience  of  five- 
and-twenty,  or  thirty  years,  form  a  young  fellow  better 
than  all  the  rules  that  can  be  given  him.  These  women, 
being  past  their  bloom,  are  extremely  flattered  by  the  least 
attention  from  a  young  fellow;  and  they  will  point  out  to 
him  those  manners  and  ATTENTIONS  that  pleased  and  en- 
gaged them,  when  they  were  in  the  pride  of  their  youth 
and  beauty.  Wherever  you  go,  make  some  of  those  women 
your  friends;  which  a  very  little  matter  will  do.  Ask  their 
advice,  tell  them  your  doubts  or  difficulties  as  to  your  be- 
havior; but  take  great  care  not  to  drop  one  word  of  their 
experience ;  for  experience  implies  age ;  and  the  suspicion  of 
age,  no  woman,  let  her  be  ever  so  old,  ever  forgives.  I 
long  for  your  picture,  which  Mr.  Harte  tells  me  is  now 

*  At  that  time  Ambassador  from  the  Court  of  France  to  Rome. 


284  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

drawing.  I  want  to  see  your  countenance,  your  air,  and 
even  your  dress ;  the  better  they  all  three  are,  the  better : 
I  am  not  wise  enough  to  despise  any  one  of  them.  Your 
dress,  at  least,  is  in  your  own  power,  and  I  hope  that  you 
mind  it  to  a  proper  degree.  Yours,  Adieu. 


LETTER    CII 

LONDON,  January  18,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  consider  the  solid  part  of  your 
little  edifice  as  so  near  being  finished  and  completed, 
that  my  only  remaining  care  is  about  the  embellish- 
ments ;  and  that  must  now  be  your  principal  care  too. 
Adorn  yourself  with  all  those  graces  and  accomplishments, 
which,  without  solidity,  are  frivolous;  but  without  which 
solidity  is,  to  a  great  degree,  useless.  Take  one  man,  with 
a  very  moderate  degree  of  knowledge,  but  with  a  pleasing 
figure,  a  prepossessing  address,  graceful  in  all  that  he  says 
and  does,  polite,  liant,  and,  in  short,  adorned  with  all  the  lesser 
talents:  and  take  another  man,  with  sound  sense  and  pro- 
found knowledge,  but  without  the  above-mentioned  ad- 
vantages ;  the  former  will  not  only  get  the  better  of  the 
latter,  in  every  pursuit  of  every  KIND,  but  in  truth  there 
will  be  no  sort  of  competition  between  them.  But  can  every 
man  acquire  these  advantages?  I  say,  Yes,  if  he  please, 
suppose  he  is  in  a  situation  and  in  circumstances  to  fre- 
quent good  company.  Attention,  observation,  and  imitation, 
will  most  infallibly  do  it. 

When  you  see  a  man  whose  first  abord  strikes  you,  pre- 
possesses you  in  his  favor,  and  makes  you  entertain  a  good 
opinion  of  him,  you  do  not  know  why,  analyze  that  abord, 
and  examine,  within  yourself,  the  several  parts  that  com- 
posed it ;  and  you  will  generally  find  it  to  be  the  result, 
the  happy  assemblage  of  modesty  unembarrassed,  respect 
without  timidity,  a  genteel,  but  unaffected  attitude  of  body 
and  limbs,  an  open,  cheerful,  but  unsmirking  countenance, 
and  a  dress,  by  no  means  negligent,  and  yet  not  foppish. 
Copy  him,  then,  not  servilely,  but  as  some  of  the  greatest 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  285 

masters  of  painting  have  copied  others;  insomuch  that  their 
copies  have  been  equal  to  the  originals,  both  as  to  beauty 
and  freedom.  When  you  see  a  man  who  is  universally 
allowed  to  shine  as  an  agreeable,  well-bred  man,  and  a  fine 
gentleman  (as,  for  example,  the  Duke  de  Nivernois),  attend 
to  him,  watch  him  carefully;  observe  in  what  manner  he 
addresses  himself  to  his  superiors,  how  he  lives  with  his 
equals,  and  how  he  treats  his  inferiors.  Mind  his  turn 
of  conversation  in  the  several  situations  of  morning  visits, 
the  table,  and  the  evening  amusements.  Imitate,  without 
mimicking  him;  and  be  his  duplicate,  but  not  his  ape. 
You  will  find  that  he  takes  care  never  to  say  or  do  any- 
thing that  can  be  construed  into  a  slight,  or  a  negligence ; 
or  that  can,  in  any  degree,  mortify  people's  vanity  and 
self-love ;  on  the  contrary,  you  will  perceive  that  he  makes 
people  pleased  with  him,  by  making  them  first  pleased  with 
themselves :  he  shows  respect,  regard,  esteem  and  attention, 
where  they  are  severally  proper:  he  sows  them  with  care,  and 
he  reaps  them  in  plenty. 

These  amiable  accomplishments  are  all  to  be  acquired  by 
use  and  imitation ;  for  we  are,  in  truth,  more  than  half  what 
we  are  by  imitation.  The  great  point  is,  to  choose  good 
models  and  to  study  them  with  care.  People  insensibly 
contract,  not  only  the  air,  the  manners,  and  the  vices,  of 
those  with  whom  they  commonly  converse,  but  their  vir- 
tues too,  and  even  their  way  of  thinking.  This  is  so  true, 
that  I  have  known  very  plain  understandings  catch  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  wit,  by  constantly  conversing  with  those 
who  had  a  great  deal.  Persist,  therefore,  in  keeping  the 
best  company,  and  you  will  insensibly  become  like  them ; 
but  if  you  add  attention  and  observation,  you  will  very 
soon  become  one  of  them.  The  inevitable  contagion  of 
company  shows  you  the  necessity  of  keeping  the  best,  and 
avoiding  all  other;  for  in  everyone,  something  will  stick. 
You  have  hitherto,  I  confess,  had  very  few  opportunities  of 
keeping  polite  company.  Westminster  school  is,  undoubt- 
edly, the  seat  of  illiberal  manners  and  brutal  behavior. 
Leipsig,  I  suppose,  is  not  the  seat  of  refined  and  elegant 
manners.  Venice,  I  believe,  has  done  something;  Rome,  I 
hope,  will  do  a  great  deal  more  ;  and  Paris  will,  I  dare  say,  do 
all  that  you  want ;  always  supposing  that  you  frequent  the 


286  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

best  companies,  and  in  the  intention  of  improving  and 
forming  yourself ;  for  without  that  intention  nothing  will  do. 

I  here  subjoin  a  list  of  all  those  necessary,  ornamental 
accomplishments  (without  which,  no  man  living  can  either 
please,  or  rise  in  the  world)  which  hitherto  I  fear  you  want, 
and  which  only  require  your  care  and  attention  to  possess. 

To  speak  elegantly,  whatever  language  you  speak  in; 
without  which  nobody  will  hear  you  with  pleasure,  and 
consequently  you  will  speak  to  very  little  .purpose. 

An  agreeable  and  distinct  elocution ;  without  which  no- 
body will  hear  you  with  patience:  this  everybody  may  ac- 
quire, who  is  not  born  with  some  imperfection  in  the  organs 
of  speech.  You  are  not ;  and  therefore  it  is  wholly  in  your 
power.  You  need  take  much  less  pains  for  it  than  Demos- 
thenes did. 

A  distinguished  politeness  of  manners  and  address;  which 
common  sense,  observation,  good  company,  and  imitation, 
will  infallibly  give  you  if  you  will  accept  it. 

A  genteel  carriage  and  graceful  motions,  with  the  air  of 
a  man  of  fashion:  a  good  dancing-master,  with  some  care 
on  your  part,  and  some  imitation  of  those  who  excel,  will 
soon  bring  this  about. 

To  be  extremely  clean  in  your  person,  and  perfectly  well 
dressed,  according  to  the  fashion^  be  that  what  it  will. 
Your  negligence  of  your  dress  while  you  were  a  school- 
boy was  pardonable,  but  would  not  be  so  now. 

Upon  the  whole,  take  it  for  granted,  that  without  these 
accomplishments,  all  you  know,  and  all  you  can  do,  will 
avail  you  very  little.  Adieu. 


LETTER    CIII 

LONDON,  January  25,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:   It    is    so    long    since    I    have    heard 
from    you,    that    I    suppose    Rome    engrosses    every 
moment  of   your  time ;    and  if   it  engrosses  it  in  the 
manner  I   could  wish,  I  willingly  give  up   my  share   of   it. 
I  would  rather  prodesse  quam  conspici.     Put  out  your  time, 
but  to  good  interest ;    and  I  do  not  desire   to  borrow  much 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  287 

of  it.  Your  studies,  the  respectable  remains  of  antiquity, 
and  your  evening  amusements  cannot,  and  indeed  ought  not, 
to  leave  you  much  time  to  write.  You  will,  probably, 
never  see  Rome  again ;  and  therefore  you  ought  to  see  it 
well  now ;  by  seeing  it  well,  I  do  not  mean  only  the  build- 
ings, statues,  and  paintings,  though  they  undoubtedly 
deserve  your  attention  :  but  I  mean  seeing  into  the  consti- 
tution and  government  of  it.  But  these  things  certainly 
occur  to  your  own  common  sense. 

How  go  your  pleasures  at  Rome?  Are  you  in  fashion 
there?  that  is,  do  you  live  with  the  people  who  are?  —  the 
only  way  of  being  so  yourself,  in  time.  Are  you  domestic 
enough  in  any  considerable  house  to  be  called  le  petit  Stan- 
hope? Has  any  woman  of  fashion  and  good-breeding  taken 
the  trouble  of  abusing  and  laughing  at  you  amicably  to 
your  face?  Have  you  found  a  good  dtcrotteuse?  For  those 
are  the  steps  by  which  you  must  rise  to  politeness.  I  do 
not  presume  to  ask  if  you  have  any  attachment,  because  I 
believe  you  will  not  make  me  your  confident;  but  this  I 
will  say,  eventually,  that  if  you  have  one,  iljaut  bien  payer 
d*  attentions  et  de  petits  soin,  if  you  would  have  your  sacrifice 
propitiously  received.  Women  are  not  so  much  taken  by 
beauty  as  men  are,  but  prefer  those  men  who  show  them 
the  most  attention. 

Would  you  engage  the  lovely  fair? 

With  gentlest  manners  treat  her; 
With  tender  looks  and  graceful  air, 

In  softest  accents  greet  her. 

Verse  were  but  vain,  the  Muses  fail, 

Without  the  Graces'  aid; 
The  God  of  Verse  could  not  prevail 

To  stop  the  flying  maid. 

Attention  by  attentions  gain, 

And  merit  care  by  cares ; 
So  shall  the  nymph  reward  your  pain; 

And  Venus  crown  your  prayers. 

Probatum  est. 

A  man's  address  and  manner  weigh  much  more  with  them 
than  his  beauty;  and,  without  them,  the  Abbati  and  Mon- 
signori  will  get  the  better  of  you.  This  address  and  manner 


288  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

should  be  exceedingly  respectful,  but  at  the  same  time 
easy  and  unembarrassed.  Your  chit-chat  or  entregent  with 
them  neither  can,  nor  ought  to  be  very  solid;  but  you 
should  take  care  to  turn  and  dress  up  your  trifles  prettily, 
and  make  them  every  now  and  then  convey  indirectly  some 
little  piece  of  flattery.  A  fan,  a  riband,  or  a  head-dress, 
are  great  materials  for  gallant  dissertations,  to  one  who 
has  got  le  ton  l£ger  et  aimable  de  la  bonne  compagnie.  At  all 
events,  a  man  had  better  talk  too  much  to  women,  than 
too  little ;  they  take  silence  for  dullness,  unless  where  they 
think  that  the  passion  they  have  inspired  occasions  it ;  and 
in  that  case  they  adopt  the  notion,  that 

Silence  in  love  betrays  more  woe 
Than  words,  though  ne'er  so  witty; 

The  beggar  that  is  dumb,  we  know, 
Deserves  a  double  pity. 

A  propos  of  this  subject:  what  progress  do  you  make  in 
that  language,  in  which  Charles  the  Fifth  said  that  he 
would  choose  to  speak  to  his  mistress?  Have  you  got  all 
the  tender  diminutives,  in  etta,  ina,  and  ettina,  which,  I 
presume,  he  alluded  to?  You  already  possess,  and,  I  hope, 
take  care  not  to  forget,  that  language  which  he  reserved 
for  his  horse.  You  are  absolutely  master,  too,  of  that 
language  in  which  he  said  he  would  converse  with  men ; 
French.  But,  in  every  language,  pray  attend  carefully  to 
the  choice  of  your  words,  and  to  the  turn  of  your  expression. 
Indeed,  it  is  a  point  of  very  great  consequence.  To  be 
heard  with  success,  you  must  be  heard  with  pleasure:  words 
are  the  dress  of  thoughts;  which  should  no  more  be  pre- 
sented in  rags,  tatters,  and  dirt,  than  your  person  should. 
By  the  way,  do  you  mind  your  person  and  your  dress 
sufficiently?  Do  you  take  great  care  of  your  teeth?  Pray 
have  them  put  in  order  by  the  best  operator  at  Rome. 
Are  you  be-laced,  be-powdered,  and  be-feathered,  as  other 
young  fellows  are,  and  should  be?  At  your  age,  il  faut 
du  brillant,  et  mdme  un  peu  de  fracas,  mats  point  de 
mediocre;  il  faut  un  air  vif,  ais6  et  noble.  Avec  les  homines ', 
un  maintien  respectueux  et  en  meme  terns  respectable;  avec 
les  femmes,  un  caquet  leger,  enjoue1,  et  badin,  mats  toujours 
fort  poli. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS   SON  289 

To  give  you  an  opportunity  of  exerting  your  talents,  I 
send  you,  here  inclosed,  a  letter  of  recommendation  from 
Monsieur  Villettes  to  Madame  de  Simonetti  at  Milan ;  a 
woman  of  the  first  fashion  and  consideration  there ;  and  I 
shall  in  my  next  send  you  another  from  the  same  person  to 
Madame  Clerici,  at  the  same  place.  As  these  two  ladies' 
houses  are  the  resort  of  all  the  people  of  fashion  at  Milan, 
those  two  recommendations  will  introduce  you  to  them  all. 
Let  me  know,  in  due  time,  if  you  have  received  these  two 
letters,  that  I  may  have  them  renewed,  in  case  of  accidents. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend !  Study  hard ;  divert  yourself 
heartily;  distinguish  carefully  between  the  pleasures  of  a 
man  of  fashion,  and  the  vices  of  a  scoundrel;  pursue  the 
former,  and  abhor  the  latter,  like  a  man  of  sense. 


LETTER    CIV 

LONDON,  February  5,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  Very  few  people  are  good  econo- 
mists of  their  fortune,  and  still  fewer  of  their  time; 
and  yet  of  the  two,  the  latter  is  the  most  precious. 
I  heartily  wish  you  to  be  a  good  economist  of  both  :  and 
you  are  now  of  an  age  to  begin  to  think  seriously  of  those 
two  important  articles.  Young  people  are  apt  to  think 
that  they  have  so  much  time  before  them,  that  they  may 
squander  what  they  please  of  it,  and  yet  have  enough  left ; 
as  very  great  fortunes  have  frequently  seduced  people  to  a 
ruinous  profusion.  Fatal  mistakes,  always  repented  of,  but 
always  too  late !  Old  Mr.  Lowndes,  the  famous  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury  in  the  reigns  of  King  William,  Queen 
Anne,  and  King  George  the  First,  used  to  say,  TAKB  CARK 

OF  THE  PENCE,  AND  THE  POUNDS  WILL  TAKE   CARE  OF 

THEMSELVES.  To  this  maxim,  which  he  not  only  preached 
but  practiced,  his  two  grandsons  at  this  time  owe  the 
very  considerable  fortunes  that  he  left  them. 

This  holds  equally  true  as  to  time ;   and  I  most  earnestly 

recommend    to  you  the  care    of  those  minutes    and   quarters 

of  hours,  in  the  course  of  the  day,   which  people  think  too 

short    to    deserve  their  attention ;    and   yet,    if   summed   up 

19 


290  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

at  the  end  of  the  year,  would  amount  to  a  very  considerable 
portion  of  time.  For  example :  you  are  to  be  at  such  a 
place  at  twelve,  by  appointment ;  you  go  out  at  eleven,  to 
make  two  or  three  visits  first  ;  those  persons  are  not  at 
home,  instead  of  sauntering  away  that  intermediate  time  at 
a  coffeehouse,  and  possibly  alone,  return  home,  write  a  letter, 
beforehand,  for  the  ensuing  post,  or  take  up  a  good  book,  — 
I  do  not  mean  Descartes,  Malebranche,  Locke,  or  Newton, 
by  way  of  dipping;  but  some  book  of  rational  amusement 
and  detached  pieces,  as  Horace,  Boileau,  Waller,  La 
Bruy&re,  etc.  This  will  be  so  much  time  saved,  and  by  no 
means  ill  employed.  Many  people  lose  a  great  deal  of  time 
by  reading :  for  they  read  frivolous  and  idle  books,  such  as 
the  absurd  romances  of  the  two  last  centuries ;  where  char- 
acters, that  never  existed,  are  insipidly  displayed,  and 
sentiments  that  were  never  felt,  pompously  described  :  the 
Oriental  ravings  and  extravagances  of  the  (<  Arabian  Nights,* 
and  Mogul  tales ;  or,  the  new  flimsy  brochures  that  now 
swarm  in  France,  of  fairy  tales,  Reflections  sur  le  coeur 
et  Fesprit,  metapkysique  de  lamour,  analyse  des  beaux 
sentimens,  and  such  sort  of  idle  frivolous  stuff,  that  nour- 
ishes and  improves  the  mind  just  as  much  as  whipped 
cream  would  the  body.  Stick  to  the  best  established 
books  in  every  language ;  the  celebrated  poets,  historians, 
orators,  or  philosophers.  By  these  means  (to  use  a  city 
metaphor)  you  will  make  fifty  PER  CENT,  of  that  time,  of 
which  others  do  not  make  above  three  or  four,  or  probably 
nothing  at  all. 

Many  people  lose  a  great  deal  of  their  time  by  laziness  ; 
they  loll  and  yawn  in  a  great  chair,  tell  themselves  that 
they  have  not  time  to  begin  anything  then,  and  that  it 
will  do  as  well  another  time.  This  is  a  most  unfortunate 
disposition,  and  the  greatest  obstruction  to  both  knowledge 
and  business.  At  your  age,  you  have  no  right  nor  claim  to 
laziness ;  I  have,  if  I  please,  being  emeritus.  You  are  but  just 
listed  in  the  world,  and  must  be  active,  diligent,  indefati- 
gable. If  ever  you  propose  commanding  with  dignity,  you 
must  serve  up  to  it  with  diligence.  Never  put  off  till  to- 
morrow what  you  can  do  to-day. 

Dispatch  is  the  soul  of  business ;  and  nothing  contributes 
more  to  dispatch  than  method.  Lay  down  a  method  for 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  291 

everything,  and  stick  to  it  inviolably,  as  far  as  unexpected 
incidents  may  allow.  Fix  one  certain  hour  and  day  in  the 
week  for  your  accounts,  and  keep  them  together  in  their 
proper  order  ;  by  which  means  they  will  require  very  little 
time,  and  you  can  never  be  much  cheated.  Whatever  let- 
ters and  papers  you  keep,  docket  and  tie  them  up  in  their 
respective  classes,  so  that  you  may  instantly  have  recourse 
to  any  one.  Lay  down  a  method  also  for  your  reading, 
for  which  you  allot  a  certain  share  of  your  mornings  ;  let 
it  be  in  a  consistent  and  consecutive  course,  and  not  in  that 
desultory  and  unmethodical  manner,  in  which  many  people 
read  scraps  of  different  authors,  upon  different  subjects. 
Keep  a  useful  and  short  commonplace  book  of  what  you 
read,  to  help  your  memory  only,  and  not  for  pedantic  quo- 
tations. Never  read  history  without  having  maps  and  a 
chronological  book,  or  tables,  lying  by  you,  and  constantly 
recurred  to  ;  without  which  history  is  only  a  confused  heap 
of  facts.  One  method  more  I  recommend  to  you,  by  which 
I  have  found  great  benefit,  even  in  the  most  dissipated 
part  of  my  life ;  that  is,  to  rise  early,  and  at  the  same 
hour  every  morning,  how  late  soever  you  may  have  sat  up 
the  night  before.  This  secures  you  an  hour  or  two,  at  least, 
of  reading  or  reflection  before  the  common  interruptions  of 
the  morning  begin  ;  and  it  will  save  your  constitution,  by 
forcing  you  to  go  to  bed  early,  at  least  one  night  in  three. 
You  will  say,  it  may  be,  as  many  young  people  would, 
that  all  this  order  and  method  is  very  troublesome,  only  fit 
for  dull  people,  and  a  disagreeable  restraint  upon  the  noble 
spirit  and  fire  of  youth.  I  deny  it ;  and  assert,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  it  will  procure  you  both  more  time  and  more 
taste  for  your  pleasures  ;  and,  so  far  from  being  troublesome 
to  you,  that  after  you  have  pursued  it  a  month,  it  would 
be  troublesome  to  you  to  lay  it  aside.  Business  whets  the 
appetite,  and  gives  a  taste  to  pleasure,  as  exercise  does  to 
food  ;  and  business  can  never  be  done  without  method ;  it 
raises  the  spirits  for  pleasures ;  and  a  SPECTACLE,  a  ball, 
an  assembly,  will  much  more  sensibly  affect  a  man  who  has 
employed,  than  a  man  who  has  lost,  the  preceding  part  of 
the  day  ;  nay,  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  a  fine  lady  will 
seem  to  have  more  charms  to  a  man  of  study  or  business, 
than  to  a  saunterer.  The  same  listlessness  runs  through  his 


292  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

whole  conduct,  and  he  is  as  insipid  in  his  pleasures,  as  inef- 
ficient in  everything  else. 

I  hope  you  earn  your  pleasures,  and  consequently  taste 
them;  for,  by  the  way,  I  know  a  great  many  men,  who 
call  themselves  men  of  pleasure,  but  who,  in  truth,  have 
none.  They  adopt  other  people's  indiscriminately,  but  with- 
out any  taste  of  their  own.  I  have  known  them  often  in- 
flict excesses  upon  themselves  because  they  thought  them 
genteel ;  though  they  sat  as  awkwardly  upon  them  as  other 
people's  clothes  would  have  done.  Have  no  pleasures  but 
your  own,  and  then  you  will  shine  in  them.  What  are 
yours?  Give  me  a  short  history  of  them.  Tenez-vous  votre 
coin  d,  table,  et  dans  les  bonnes  compagnies?  y  brillez-vous 
du  cot6  de  la  politesse,  de  Tenjouement,  du  badinage? 
Etes-vous  galant?  Filez-vous  le  parfait  amour?  Est-il 
question  de  fitchir  par  vos  soins  et  par  vos  attentions  les 
rigueurs  de  quelque  fibre  Princesse?  You  may  safely  trust 
me  ;  for  though  I  am  a  severe  censor  of  vice  and  folly,  I 
am  a  friend  and  advocate  for  pleasures,  and  will  contribute 
all  in  my  power  to  yours. 

There  is  a  certain  dignity  to  be  kept  up  in  pleasures,  as 
well  as  in  business.  In  love,  a  man  may  lose  his  heart 
with  dignity ;  but  if  he  loses  his  nose,  he  loses  his  charac- 
ter into  the  bargain.  At  table,  a  man  may  with  decency 
have  a  distinguishing  palate;  but  indiscriminate  voracious- 
ness degrades  him  to  a  glutton.  A  man  may  play  with  de- 
cency ;  but  if  he  games,  he  is  disgraced.  Vivacity  and  wit 
make  a  man  shine  in  company;  but  trite  jokes  and  loud 
laughter  reduce  him  to  a  buffoon.  Every  virtue,  they  say, 
has  its  kindred  vice ;  every  pleasure,  I  am  sure,  has  its 
neighboring  disgrace.  Mark  carefully,  therefore,  the  line 
that  separates  them,  and  rather  stop  a  yard  short,  than  step 
an  inch  beyond  it. 

I  wish  to  God  that  you  had  as  much  pleasure  in  follow- 
ing my  advice,  as  I  have  in  giving  it  you!  and  you  may 
the  more  easily  have  it,  as  I  give  you  none  that  is  incon- 
sistent with  your  pleasure.  In  all  that  I  say  to  you,  it  is 
your  interest  alone  that  I  consider :  trust  to  my  experience ; 
you  know  you  may  to  my  affection.  Adieu. 

I  have  received  no  letter  yet  from  you  or  Mr.   Harte. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  293 


LETTER   CV 

LONDON,  February  8,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  You  have,  by  this  time,  I  hope 
and  believe,  made  such  a  progress  in  the  Italian 
language,  that  you  can  read  it  with  ease;  I  mean, 
the  easy  books  in  it ;  and  indeed,  in  that,  as  well  as  in. 
every  other  language,  the  easiest  books  are  generally  the 
best;  for,  whatever  author  is  obscure  and  difficult  in  his- 
own  language,  certainly  does  not  think  clearly.  This  is,, 
in  my  opinion,  the  case  of  a  celebrated  Italian  author;  to 
whom  the  Italians,  from  the  admiration  they  have  of  him, 
have  given  the  epithet  of  il  divino;  I  mean  Dante.  Though 
I  formerly  knew  Italian  extremely  well,  I  could  never  un- 
derstand him ;  for  which  reason  I  had  done  with  him,  fully 
convinced  that  he  was  not  worth  the  pains  necessary  to  un- 
derstand him. 

The  good  Italian  authors  are,  in  my  mind,  but  few;  I 
mean,  authors  of  invention ;  for  there  are,  undoubtedly, 
very  good  historians  and  excellent  translators.  The  two 
poets  worth  your  reading,  and,  I  was  going  to  say,  the  only 
two,  are  Tasso  and  Ariosto.  Tasso's  Gierusalemme  Liber- 
ata  is  altogether  unquestionably  a  fine  poem,  though  it  has 
some  low,  and  many  false  thoughts  in  it :  and  Boileau  very 
justly  makes  it  the  mark  of  a  bad  taste,  to  compare  le 
Clinquant  Tasse  &  F  Or  de  Virgile.  The  image,  with 
which  he  adorns  the  introduction  of  his  epic  poem,  is  low 
and  disgusting;  it  is  that  of  a  froward,  sick,  puking  child, 
who  is  deceived  into  a  dose  of  necessary  physic  by  du  bon- 
bon. These  verses  are  these  : — 

w  Cost  alFegro  fanciul  porgiamo  asferti 
Di  soavi  licor  gli  orli  del  vaso: 
Succhi  amari  ingannato  intanto  ei  beve, 
R  dalf   inganno  suo  vita  rieeveP 

However,  the  poem,  with  all  its  faults  about  it,  may  justly 
be  called  a  fine  one. 

If  fancy,  imagination,  invention,  description,  etc.,  con- 
stitute a  poet,  Ariosto  is,  unquestionably,  a  great  one.  His 
*  Orlando,"  it  is  true,  is  a  medley  of  lies  and  truths — sacred 


294  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

and  profane  —  wars,  loves,  enchantments,  giants,  mad  heroes, 
and  adventurous  damsels,  but  then,  he  gives  it  you  very 
fairly  for  what  it  is,  and  does  not  pretend  to  put  it  upon 
you  for  the  true  epopte,  or  epic  poem.  He  says  :  — 

(<  Le  Donne,  i  Cavalier,   Farme,  gli  amort 
Le  cortesie,  Vaudaci  imprese,  to  canto? 

The  connections  of  his  stories  are  admirable,  his  reflections 
just,  his  sneers  and  ironies  incomparable,  and  his  painting 
excellent.  When  Angelica,  after  having  wandered  over 
half  the  world  alone  with  Orlando,  pretends,  notwithstand- 
ing,— 

<( ch'el  fior  virginal  cost  avea  salvo, 

Come  selo  portb  dal  matern'  alvo.9 

The  author  adds,  very  gravely,  — 

<(  Forse  era  ver,  ma  non  perb  credibile 
A  chi  del  senso  suo  fosse  Signore.* 

Astolpho's  being  carried  to  the  moon  by  St.  John,  in  order 
to  look  for  Orlando's  lost  wits,  at  the  end  of  the  34th  book, 
and  the  many  lost  things  that  he  finds  there,  is  a  most 
happy  extravagancy,  and  contains,  at  the  same  time,  a  great 
deal  of  sense.  I  would  advise  you  to  read  this  poem  with 
attention.  It  is,  also,  the  source  of  half  the  tales,  novels, 
and  plays,  that  have  been  written  since. 

The  Pastor  fido  of  Guarini  is  so  celebrated,  that  you 
should  read  it ;  but  in  reading  it,  you  will  judge  of  the 
great  propriety  of  the  characters.  A  parcel  of  shepherds 
and  shepherdesses,  with  the  TRUE  PASTORAL  SIMPLICITY,  talk 
metaphysics,  epigrams,  concetti,  and  quibbles,  by  the  hour 
to  each  other. 

The  Aminto  del  Tasso,  is  much  more  what  it  is  intended 
to  be,  a  pastoral:  the  shepherds,  indeed,  have  their  concetti 
and  their  antitheses;  but  are  not  quite  so  sublime  and  ab- 
stracted as  those  in  Pastor  Fido.  I  think  that  you  will 
like  it  much  the  best  of  the  two. 

Petrarca  is,  in  my  mind,  a  sing-song,  love-sick  poet; 
much  admired,  however,  by  the  Italians  :  but  an  Italian  who 
should  think  no  better  of  him  than  I  do,  would  certainly 
say  that  he  deserved  his  Laura  better  than  his  Lauro;  and 
that  wretched  quibble  would  be  reckoned  an  excellent  piece 
of  Italian  wit. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  295 

The  Italian  prose- writers  (of  invention  I  mean)  which  I 
would  recommend  to  your  acquaintance,  are  Machiavello  and 
Boccacio ;  the  former,  for  the  established  reputation  which 
he  has  acquired,  of  a  consummate  politician  (whatever 
my  own  private  sentiments  may  be  of  either  his  politics  or 
his  morality) :  the  latter,  for  his  great  invention,  and  for 
his  natural  and  agreeable  manner  of  telling  his  stories. 

Guicciardini,  Bentivoglio,  Davila,  etc.,  are  excellent  his- 
torians, and  deserved  being  read  with  attention.  The 
nature  of  history  checks,  a  little,  the  flights  of  Italian 
imaginations;  which,  in  works  of  invention,  are  very  high 
indeed.  Translations  curb  them  still  more :  and  their 
translations  of  the  classics  are  incomparable ;  particularly 
the  first  ten,  translated  in  the  time  of  Leo  the  Tenth,  and 
inscribed  to  him,  under  the  title  of  Collana.  That  original 
Collana  has  been  lengthened  since ;  and  if  I  mistake  not, 
consist  now  of  one  hundred  and  ten  volumes. 

From  what  I  have  said,  you  will  easily  guess  that  I 
meant  to  put  you  upon  your  guard ;  and  not  let  your  fancy 
be  dazzled  and  your  taste  corrupted  by  the  concetti,  the 
quaintnesses,  and  false  thoughts,  which  are  too  much  the 
characteristics  of  the  Italian  and  Spanish  authors.  I  think 
you  are  in  no  great  danger,  as  your  taste  has  been  formed 
upon  the  best  ancient  models,  the  Greek  and  Latin  authors 
of  the  best  ages,  who  indulge  themselves  in  none  of  the 
puerilities  I  have  hinted  at.  I  think  I  may  say,  with 
truth,  that  true  wit,  sound  taste,  and  good  sense,  are  now, 
as  it  were,  engrossed  by  France  and  England.  Your  old 
acquaintances,  the  Germans,  I  fear,  are  a  little  below  them; 
and  your  new  acquaintances,  the  Italians,  are  a  great  deal 
too  much  above  them.  The  former,  I  doubt,  crawl  a  little ; 
the  latter,  I  am  sure,  very  often  fly  out  of  sight. 

I  recommended  to  you  a  good  many  years  ago,  and  I 
believe  you  then  read,  La  manure  de  bien  Denser  dans  les 
ou-vrages  d'esprit  par  le  P^re  Bouhours;  and  I  think  it  is 
very  well  worth  your  reading  again,  now  that  you  can 
judge  of  it  better.  I  do  not  know  any  book  that  con- 
tributes more  to  form  a  true  taste ;  and  you  find  there,  into 
the  bargain,  the  most  celebrated  passages,  both  of  the  ancients 
and  the  moderns,  which  refresh  your  memory  with  what 
you  have  formerly  read  in  them  separately.  It  is  fol- 


296  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

lowed    by    a    book    much    of    the    same    size,    by   the   same 
author,  entitled,   Suite  des  Pensees  ing£nieuses. 

To  do  justice  to  the  best  English  and  French  authors, 
they  have  not  given  into  that  false  taste;  they  allow  no 
thoughts  to  be  good,  that  are  not  just  and  founded  upon 
truth.  The  age  of  Lewis  XIV.  was  very  like  the  Augustan ; 
Boileau,  Moli6re,  La  Fontaine,  Racine,  etc.,  established  the 
true,  and  exposed  the  false  taste.  The  reign  of  King  Charles 
II.  (meritorious  in  no  other  respect)  banished  false  taste  out 
of  England,  and  proscribed  puns,  quibbles,  acrostics,  etc. 
Since  that,  false  wit  has  renewed  its  attacks,  and  endeavored 
to  recover  its  lost  empire,  both  in  England  and  France ; 
but  without  success;  though,  I  must  say,  with  more  success 
in  France  than  in  England.  Addison,  Pope,  and  Swift, 
have  vigorously  defended  the  rights  of  good  sense,  which 
is  more  than  can  be  said  of  their  contemporary  French  authors, 
who  have  of  late  had  a  great  tendency  to  le  faux  brillant^ 
le  raffinement,  et  F entortillement .  And  Lord  Roscommon 
would  be  more  in  the  right  now,  than  he  was  then,  in 
saying,  that 

*The  English  bullion  of  one  sterling  line, 
Drawn  to  French  wire,  would  through  whole  pages  shine.* 

Lose  no  time,  my  dear  child,  I  conjure  you,  in  forming 
your  taste,  your  manners,  your  mind,  your  everything;  you 
have  but  two  years'  time  to  do  it  in;  for  whatever  you  are, 
to  a  certain  degree,  at  twenty,  you  will  be,  more  or  less, 
all  the  rest  of  your  life.  May  it  be  a  long  and  happy 
one.  Adieu. 


LETTER    CVI 

LONDON,  February  22,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  If  the  Italian  of  your  letter  to  Lady 
Chesterfield  was   all  your  own,    I  am  very  well   sat- 
isfied  with    the    progress    which   you    have   made    in 
that   language   in    so   short  a   time;   according   to   that  gra- 
dation,   you  will,  in  a  very  little    time   more,  be   master  of 
it.     Except  at  the  French  Ambassador's,  I  believe  you  hear 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  297 

only  Italian  spoke ;  for  the  Italians  speak  very  little  French, 
and  that  little  generally  very  ill.  The  French  are  even 
with  them,  and  generally  speak  Italian  as  ill;  for  I  never 
knew  a  Frenchman  in  my  life  who  could  pronounce  the 
Italian  ce,  ct,  orge,gi.  Your  desire  of  pleasing  the  Roman 
ladies  will  of  course  give  you  not  only  the  desire,  but  the 
means  of  speaking  to  them  elegantly  in  their  own  language. 
The  Princess  Borghese,  I  am  told,  speaks  French  both  ill  and 
unwillingly;  and  therefore  you  should  make  a  merit  to  her 
of  your  application  to  her  language.  She  is,  by  a  kind  of 
prescription  (longer  than  she  would  probably  wish),  at  the 
head  of  the  beau  monde  at  Rome ;  and  can,  consequently, 
establish  or  destroy  a  young  fellow's  fashionable  character. 
If  she  declares  him  amabile  4  leggiadro,  others  will  think 
him  so,  or  at  least  those  who  do  not  will  not  dare  to 
say  so.  There  are  in  every  great  town  some  such  women, 
whose  rank,  beauty,  and  fortune  have  conspired  to  place 
them  at  the  head  of  the  fashion.  They  have  generally 
been  gallant,  but  within  certain  decent  bounds.  Their  gal- 
lantries have  taught,  both  them  and  their  admirers,  good- 
breeding;  without  which  they  could  keep  up  no  dignity, 
but  would  be  vilified  by  those  very  gallantries  which  put 
them  in  vogue.  It  is  with  these  women,  as  with  ministers 
and  favorites  at  court ;  they  decide  upon  fashion  and  char- 
acters, as  these  do  of  fortunes  and  preferments.  Pay 
particular  court,  therefore,  wherever  you  are,  to  these 
female  sovereigns  of  the  beau  monde;  their  recommendation 
is  a  passport  through  all  the  realms  of  politeness.  But 
then,  remember  that  they  require  minute  officious  attentions. 
You  should,  if  possible,  guess  at  and  anticipate  all  their 
little  fancies  and  inclinations;  make  yourself  familiarly  and 
domestically  useful  to  them,  by  offering  yourself  for  all 
their  little  commissions,  and  assisting  in  doing  the  honors 
of  their  houses,  and  entering  with  seeming  unction  into  all 
their  little  grievances,  bustles,  and  views;  for  they  are 
always  busy.  If  you  are  once  ben  ficcato  at  the  Palazzo 
Borghese,  you  will  soon  be  in  fashion  at  Rome;  and  being 
in  fashion  will  soon  fashion  you ;  for  that  is  what  you 
must  now  think  of  very  seriously. 

I  am  sorry  that  there  is  no  good  dancing-master  at  Rome, 
to  form  your  exterior  air  and  carriage ;  which,  I  doubt,  are 


298  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

not  yet  the  genteelest  in  the  world.  But  you  may,  and  I 
hope  you  will,  in  the  meantime,  observe  the  air  and  carriage 
of  those  who  are  reckoned  to  have  the  best,  and  form  your 
own  upon  them.  Ease,  gracefulness,  and  dignity,  compose 
the  air  and  address  of  a  man  of  fashion;  which  is  as  un- 
like the  affected  attitudes  and  motions  of  a  petit  maitre, 
as  it  is  to  the  awkward,  negligent,  clumsy,  and  slouching 
manner  of  a  booby. 

I  am  extremely  pleased  with  the  account  Mr.  Harte  has 
given  me  of  the  allotment  of  your  time  at  Rome.  Those 
five  hours  every  morning,  which  you  employ  in  serious  studies 
with  Mr.  Harte,  are  laid  out  with  great  interest,  and  will 
make  you  rich  all  the  rest  of  your  life.  I  do  not  look 
upon  the  subsequent  morning  hours,  which  you  pass  with 
your  Ciceroni,  to  be  ill-disposed  of;  there  is  a  kind  of 
connection  between  them ;  and  your  evening  diversions  in 
good  company  are,  in  their  way,  as  useful  and  necessary. 
This  is  the  way  for  you  to  have  both  weight  and  lustre  in 
the  world;  and  this  is  the  object  which  I  always  had  in 
view  in  your  education. 

Adieu,  my  friend!  go  on  and  prosper. 

Mr.  Grevenkop  has  just  received  Mr.  Harte's  letter  of 
the  i9th  N.  S. 


LETTER  CVII 

LONDON,  March  8,  O.  S.  1750. 

YOUNG  as  you  are,  I  hope  you  are    in    haste    to    live ;  by 
living,  I  mean  living  with  lustre  and  honor    to   your- 
self, with   utility  to  society;    doing  what  may  deserve 
to    be  written,   or  writing  what  may  deserve  to  be  read ;  I 
should  wish  both.     Those  who  consider  life    in   that    light, 
will  not  idly  lavish  one  moment.     The  present  moments  are 
the  only  ones  we  are  sure  of,  and  as  such  the  most  valuable; 
but  yours  are  doubly  so  at    your    age ;    for    the    credit,    the 
dignity,   the  comfort,   and    the    pleasure  of   all    your   future 
moments,  depend  upon  the  use  you  make  of  your  present  ones. 
I    am    extremely  satisfied    with    your    present  manner    of 
employing   your  time;    but    will   you   always    employ  it   as 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  299 

well?  I  am  far  from  meaning  always  in  the  same  way; 
but  I  mean  as  well  in  proportion,  in  the  variation  of  age 
and  circumstances.  You  now  study  five  hours  every  morn- 
ing; I  neither  suppose  that  you  will,  nor  desire  that  you 
should  do  so  for  the  rest  of  your  life.  Both  business  and 
pleasure  will  justly  and  equally  break  in  upon  those  hours. 
But  then,  will  you  always  employ  the  leisure  they  leave  you 
in  useful  studies?  If  you  have  but  an  hour,  will  you  im- 
prove that  hour,  instead  of  idling  it  away?  While  you 
have  such  a  friend  and  monitor  with  you  as  Mr.  Harte,  I 
am  sure  you  will.  But  suppose  that  business  and  situations 
should,  in  six  or  seven  months,  call  Mr.  Harte  away  from 
you ;  tell  me  truly,  what  may  I  expect  and  depend  upon 
from  you,  when  left  to  yourself  ?  May  I  be  sure  that  you 
will  employ  some  part  of  every  day,  in  adding  something 
to  that  stock  of  knowledge  which  he  will  have  left  you? 
May  I  hope  that  you  will  allot  one  hour  in  the  week  to 
the  care  of  your  own  affairs,  to  keep  them  in  that  order 
and  method  which  every  prudent  man  does?  But,  above 
all,  may  I  be  convinced  that  your  pleasures,  whatever  they 
may  be,  will  be  confined  within  the  circle  of  good  com- 
pany, and  people  of  fashion?  Those  pleasures  I  recommend 
to  you ;  I  will  promote  them,  I  will  pay  for  them ;  but  I 
will  neither  pay  for,  nor  suffer,  the  unbecoming,  disgraceful, 
and  degrading  pleasures  (they  should  not  be  called  pleasures), 
of  low  and  profligate  company.  I  confess  the  pleasures  of 
high  life  are  not  always  strictly  philosophical ;  and  I  believe  a 
Stoic  would  blame  my  indulgence;  but  I  am  yet  no  Stoic, 
though  turned  of  five-and-fif ty ;  and  I  am  apt  to  think  that 
you  are  rather  less  so,  at  eighteen.  The  pleasures  of  the 
table,  among  people  of  the  first  fashion,  may  indeed  some- 
times, by  accident,  run  into  excesses :  but  they  will  never 
sink  into  a  continued  course  of  gluttony  and  drunkenness. 
The  gallantry  of  high  life,  though  not  strictly  justifiable, 
carries,  at  least,  no  external  marks  of  infamy  about  it. 
Neither  the  heart  nor  the  constitution  is  corrupted  by  it ; 
neither  nose  nor  character  lost  by  it;  manners,  pos- 
sibly, improved.  Play,  in  good  'company,  is  only  play, 
and  not  gaming;  not  deep,  and  consequently  not  dangerous 
nor  dishonorable.  It  is  only  the  interacts  of  other  amuse- 
ments. 


300  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

This,  I  am  sure,  is  not  talking  to  you  like  an  old  man, 
though  it  is  talking  to  you  like  an  old  friend;  these  are 
not  hard  conditions  to  ask  of  you.  I  am  certain  you  have 
sense  enough  to  know  how  reasonable  they  are  on  my  part, 
how  advantageous  they  are  on  yours :  but  have  you  resolution 
enough  to  perform  them?  Can  you  withstand  the  examples, 
and  the  invitations,  of  the  profligate,  and  their  infamous 
missionaries?  For  I  have  known  many  a  young  fellow  se- 
duced by  a  mauvaise  konte,  that  made  him  ashamed  to 
refuse.  These  are  resolutions  which  you  must  form,  and 
steadily  execute  for  yourself,  whenever  you  lose  the  friendly 
care  and  assistance  of  your  Mentor.  In  the  meantime, 
make  a  greedy  use  of  him ;  exhaust  him,  if  you  can,  of  all 
his  knowledge ;  and  get  the  prophet's  mantle  from  him, 
before  he  is  taken  away  himself. 

You  seem  to  like  Rome.  How  do  you  go  on  there? 
Are  you  got  into  the  inside  of  that  extraordinary  govern- 
ment? Has  your  Abbate  Foggini  discovered  many  of  those 
mysteries  to  you?  Have  you  made  an  acquaintance  with 
some  eminent  Jesuits?  I  know  no  people  in  the  world  more 
instructive.  You  would  do  very  well  to  take  one  or  two 
such  sort  of  people  home  with  you  to  dinner  every  day.  It 
would  be  only  a  little  minestra  and  macaroni  the  more; 
and  a  three  or  four  hours'  conversation  de  suite  produces  a 
thousand  useful  informations,  which  short  meetings  and 
snatches  at  third  places  do  not  admit  of;  and  many  of  those 
gentlemen  are  by  no  means  unwilling  to  dine  gratis. 
Whenever  you  meet  with  a  man  eminent  in  any  way,  feed 
him,  and  feed  upon  him  at  the  same  time;  it  will  not  only 
improve  you,  but  give  you  a  reputation  of  knowledge,  and 
of  loving  it  in  others. 

I  have  been  lately  informed  of  an  Italian  book,  which 
I  believe  may  be  of  use  to  you,  and  which,  I  dare  say,  you 
may  get  at  Rome,  written  by  one  Alberti,  about  fourscore 
or  a  hundred  years  ago,  a  thick  quarto.  It  is  a  classical 
description  of  Italy;  from  whence,  I  am  assured,  that  Mr. 
Addison,  to  save  himself  trouble,  has  taken  most  of  his 
remarks  and  classical  references.  I  am  told  that  it  is  an 
excellent  book  for  a  traveler  in  Italy. 

What  Italian  books  have  you  read,  or  are  you  reading? 
Ariosto.  I  hope,  is  one  of  them.  Pray  apply  yourself  dili- 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  301 

gently  to  Italian ;  it  is  so  easy  a  language,  that  speaking  it 
constantly,  and  reading  it  often,  must,  in  six  months  more, 
make  you  perfect  master  of  it :  in  which  case  you  will 
never  forget  it ;  for  we  only  forget  those  things  of  which 
we  know  but  little. 

But,  above  all  things,  to  all  that  you  learn,  to  all  that 
you  say,  and  to  all  that  you  do,  remember  to  join  the 
Graces.  All  is  imperfect  without  them  ;  with  them  every- 
thing is  at  least  tolerable.  Nothing  could  hurt  me  more 
than  to  find  you  unattended  by  them.  How  cruelly  should 
I  be  shocked,  if,  at  our  first  meeting,  you  should  present 
yourself  to  me  without  them !  Invoke  them,  and  sacrifice 
to  them  every  moment;  they  are  always  kind,  where  they 
are  assiduously  courted.  For  God's  sake,  aim  at  perfection 
in  everything :  Nil  actum  re-putans  si  quid  superesset 
agendum.  Adieu.  Yours  most  tenderly. 


LETTER   CVIII 

LONDON,  March  19,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :    I  acknowledge  your  last  letter  of  the 
24th  February,  N.  S.     In  return  for  your  earthquake, 
I  can  tell  you  that  we  have  had  here   more  than  our 
share  of  earthquakes ;    for  we  had  two  very  strong  ones  in 
eight-and-twenty  days.     They  really  do  too    much  honor  to 
our  cold  climate ;  in  your  warm  one,  they  are  compensated 
by  favors  from  the  sun,   which  we  do  not  enjoy. 

I  did  not  think  that  the  present  Pope  was  a  sort  of  man 
to  build  seven  modern  little  chapels  at  the  expense  of  so 
respectable  a  piece  of  antiquity  as  the  Coliseum.  How- 
ever, let  his  Holiness' s  taste  of  -virtU  be  ever  so  bad,  pray 
get  somebody  to  present  you  to  him  before  you  leave  Rome ; 
and  without  hesitation  kiss  his  slipper,  or  whatever  else 
the  etiquette  of  that  Court  requires.  I  would  have  you 
see  all  those  ceremonies ;  and  I  presume  that  you  are,  by 
this  time,  ready  enough  at  Italian  to  understand  and  answer 
il  Santo  Padre  in  that  language.  I  hope,  too,  that  you 
have  acquired  address  and  usage  enough  of  the  world  to  be 


302  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

presented  to  anybody,  without  embarrassment  or  disappro- 
bation. If  that  is  not  yet  quite  perfect,  as  I  cannot  sup- 
pose it  is  entirely,  custom  will  improve  it  daily,  and  habit 
at  last  complete  it.  I  have  for  some  time  told  you,  that 
the  great  difficulties  are  pretty  well  conquered.  You  have 
acquired  knowledge,  which  is  the  principium  et  fons;  but 
you  have  now  a  variety  of  lesser  things  to  attend  to,  which 
collectively  make  one  great  and  important  object.  You 
easily  guess  that  I  mean  the  graces,  the  air,  address,  polite- 
ness, and,  in  short,  the  whole  tournure  and  agr6mens  of  a 
man  of  fashion;  so  many  little  things  conspire  to  form  that 
tournure,  that  though  separately  they  seem  too  insignificant 
to  mention,  yet  aggregately  they  are  too  material  for  me 
(who  think  for  you  down  to  the  very  lowest  things)  to 
omit.  For  instance,  do  you  use  yourself  to  carve,  eat  and 
drink  genteelly,  and  with  ease?  Do  you  take  care  to  walk, 
sit,  stand,  and  present  yourself  gracefully?  Are  you  suffi- 
ciently upon  your  guard  against  awkward  attitudes,  and 
illiberal,  ill-bred,  and  disgusting  habits,  such  as  scratching 
yourself,  putting  your  fingers  in  your  mouth,  nose,  and  ears? 
Tricks  always  acquired  at  schools,  often  too  much  neglected 
afterward ;  but,  however,  extremely  ill-bred  and  nauseous. 
For  I  do  not  conceive  that  any  man  has  a  right  to  exhibit, 
in  company,  any  one  excrement  more  than  another.  Do  you 
dress  well,  and  think  a  little  of  the  brillant  in  your  per- 
son? That,  too,  is  necessary,  because  it  is  -prfoenant.  Do 
you  aim  at  easy,  engaging,  but,  at  the  same  time,  civil  or 
respectful  manners,  according  to  the  company  you  are  in? 
These,  and  a  thousand  other  things,  which  you  will  observe 
in  people  of  fashion  better  than  I  can  describe  them,  are 
absolutely  necessary  for  every  man ;  but  still  more  for  you, 
than  for  almost  any  man  living.  The  showish,  the  shining, 
the  engaging  parts  of  the  character  of  a  fine  gentleman, 
should  (considering  your  destination)  be  the  principal  objects 
of  your  present  attention. 

When  you  return  here,  I  am  apt  to  think  that  you  will 
find  something  better  to  do  than  to  run  to  Mr.  Osborne's 
at  Gray's  Inn,  to  pick  up  scarce  books.  Buy  good  books 
and  read  them;  the  best  books  are  the  commonest,  and  the 
last  editions  are  always  the  best,  if  the  editors  are  not 
blockheads,  for  they  may  profit  of  the  former.  But  take 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  303 

care  not  to  understand  editions  and  title-pages  too  well.  It 
always  smells  of  pedantry,  and  not  always  of  learning. 
What  curious  books  I  have  —  they  are  indeed  but  few  —  shall 
be  at  your  service.  I  have  some  of  the  old  Collana,  and 
the  Machiavel  of  1550.  Beware  of  the  Bibliotnanie. 

In  the  midst  of  either  your  studies  or  your  pleasures,  pray 
never  lose  view  of  the  object  of  your  destination  :  I  mean 
the  political  affairs  of  Europe.  Follow  them  politically, 
chronologically,  and  geographically,  through  the  newspapers, 
and  trace  up  the  facts  which  you  meet  with  there  to  their 
sources:  as,  for  example,  consult  the  treaties  Neustadt  and 
Abo,  with  regard  to  the  disputes,  which  you  read  of  every 
day  in  the  public  papers,  between  Russia  and  Sweden. 
For  the  affairs  of  Italy,  which  are  reported  to  be  the  objects 
of  present  negotiations,  recur  to  the  quadruple  alliance  of 
the  year  1718,  and  follow  them  down  through  their  several 
variations  to  the  treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  1748;  in  which 
(by  the  bye)  you  will  find  the  very  different  tenures  by 
which  the  Infant  Don  Philip,  your  namesake,  holds  Parma 
and  Placentia.  Consult,  also,  the  Emperor  Charles  the 
Sixth's  Act  of  Cession  of  the  kingdoms  of  Naples  and 
Sicily,  being  a  point  which,  upon  the  death  of  the  present 
King  of  Spain,  is  likely  to  occasion  some  disputes ;  do  not 
lose  the  thread  of  these  matters;  which  is  carried  on  with 
great  ease,  but  if  once  broken,  is  resumed  with  difficulty. 

Pray  tell  Mr.  Harte,  that  I  have  sent  his  packet  to  Baron 
Firmian  by  Count  Einsiedlen,  who  is  gone  from  hence  this 
day  for  Germany,  and  passes  through  Vienna  in  his  way 
to  Italy ;  where  he  is  in  hopes  of  crossing  upon  you  some- 
where or  other.  Adieu,  my  friend. 


LETTER  CIX 

LONDON,  March  29,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:      You  are    now,  I  suppose,    at   Na- 
ples, in    a  new    scene    of    Virth,  examining   all    the 
curiosities    of  Herculaneum,  watching    the    eruptions 
of  Mount  Vesuvius,  and  surveying  the  magnificent  churches 
and  public    buildings,    by    which  Naples    is    distinguished. 


304  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

You  have  a  court  there  into  the  bargain,  which,  I  hope, 
you  frequent  and  attend  to.  Polite  manners,  a  versatility 
of  mind,  a  complaisance  even  to  enemies,  and  the  volto 
sciolto,  with  the  pensieri  stretti,  are  only  to  be  learned 
at  courts,  and  must  be  well  learned  by  whoever  would 
either  shine  or  thrive  in  them.  Though  they  do  not 
change  the  nature,  they  smooth  and  soften  the  manners  of 
mankind.  Vigilance,  dexterity,  and  flexibility  supply  the 
place  of  natural  force ;  and  it  is  the  ablest  mind,  not 
the  strongest  body  that  prevails  there.  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Fogliani  will,  I  am  sure,  show  you  all  the  polite- 
ness of  courts;  for  I  know  no  better  bred  people  than 
they  are.  Domesticate  yourself  there  while  you  stay  at 
Naples,  and  lay  aside  the  English  coldness  and  formality. 
You  have  also  a  letter  to  Comte  Mahony,  whose  house  I 
hope  you  frequent,  as  it  is  the  resort  of  the  best  company. 
His  sister,  Madame  Bulkeley,  is  now  here ;  and  had  I 
known  of  your  going  so  soon  to  Naples,  I  would  have  got 
you,  ex  abundanti^  a  letter  from  her  to  her  brother.  The 
conversation  of  the  moderns  in  the  evening  is  full  as  neces- 
sary for  you,  as  that  of  the  ancients  in  the  morning. 

You  would  do  well,  while  you  are  at  Naples,  to  read 
some  very  short  history  of  that  kingdom.  It  has  had  great 
variety  of  masters,  and  has  occasioned  many  wars;  the 
general  history  of  which  will  enable  you  to  ask  many  proper 
questions,  and  to  receive  useful  informations  in  return.  In- 
quire into  the  manner  and  form  of  that  government;  for 
constitution  it  has  none,  being  an  absolute  one;  but  the 
most  absolute  governments  have  certain  customs  and  forms, 
which  are  more  or  less  observed  by  their  respective  tyrants. 
In  China  it  is  the  fashion  for  the  emperors,  absolute  as 
they  are,  to  govern  with  justice  and  equity;  as  in  the 
other  Oriental  monarchies,  it  is  the  custom  to  govern  by 
violence  and  cruelty.  The  King  of  France,  as  absolute,  in 
fact,  as  any  of  them,  is  by  custom  only  more  gentle ;  for  I 
know  of  no  constitutional  bar  to  his  will.  England  is  now 
the  only  monarchy  in  the  world,  that  can  properly  be  said 
to  have  a  constitution ;  for  the  people's  rights  and  liberties 
are  secured  by  laws ;  and  I  cannot  reckon  Sweden  and 
Poland  to  be  monarchies,  those  two  kings  having  little  more 
to  say  than  the  Doge  of  Venice.  I  do  not  presume  to  say 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  305 

anything  of  the  constitution  of  the  empire  to  you,  who  are 
jurisperitorum    Germanicorum  facile  princeps. 

When  you  write  to  me,  which,  by  the  way,  you  do 
pretty  seldom,  tell  me  rather  whom  you  see,  than  what 
you  see.  Inform  me  of  your  evening  transactions  and  ac- 
quaintances;  where,  and  how  you  pass  your  evenings; 
what  people  of  learning  you  have  made  acquaintance  with ; 
and,  if  you  will  trust  me  with  so  important  an  affair, 
what  belle  passion  inflames  you.  I  interest  myself  most  in 
what  personally  concerns  you  most ;  and  this  is  a  very 
critical  year  in  your  life.  To  talk  like  a  virtuoso,  your 
canvas  is,  I  think,  a  good  one,  and  RAPHAEL  HARTE  has 
drawn  the  outlines  admirably;  nothing  is  now  wanting  but 
the  coloring  of  Titian,  and  the  Graces,  the  morbidezza  of 
Guido ;  but  that  is  a  great  deal.  You  must  get  them 
soon,  or  you  will  never  get  them  at  all.  Per  la  lingua 
Italiana,  sono  sicuro  ch'ella  n'%  adesso  professore,  a  segno 
tale  ch'io  non  ardisca  dirle  altra  cosa  in  quela  lingua  se 
non.  Addio. 


LETTER  CX 

LONDON,  April  26,  O.  S.  1756. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  As  your  journey  to  Paris  ap- 
proaches, and  as  that  period  will,  one  way  or  an- 
other, be  of  infinite  consequence  to  you,  my  letters 
will  henceforward  be  principally  calculated  for  that 
meridian.  You  will  be  left  there  to  your  own  discretion, 
instead  of  Mr.  Harte's,  and  you  will  allow  me,  I  am 
sure,  to  distrust  a  little  the  discretion  of  eighteen.  You 
will  find  in  the  Academy  a  number  of  young  fellows  much 
less  discreet  than  yourself.  These  will  all  be  your  ac- 
quaintances; but  look  about  you  first,  and  inquire  into 
their  respective  characters,  before  you  form  any  con- 
nections among  them ;  and,  cceteris  paribus,  single  out 
those  of  the  most  considerable  rank  and  family.  Show 
them  a  distinguishing  attention ;  by  which  means  you  will 
get  into  their  respective  houses,  and  keep  the  best  com- 
pany. All  those  French  young  fellows  are  excessively 


306  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

ttourdis ;  be  upon  your  guard  against  scrapes  and  quarrels ; 
have  no  corporal  pleasantries  with  them,  no  jeux  de 
mains,  no  coups  de  chambri&re,  which  frequently  bring  on 
quarrels.  Be  as  lively  as  they,  if  you  please,  but  at  the 
same  time  be  a  little  wiser  than  they.  As  to  letters,  you 
will  find  most  of  them  ignorant;  do  not  reproach  them 
with  that  ignorance,  nor  make  them  feel  your  superiority. 
It  is  not  their  faults,  they  are  all  bred  up  for  the  army; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  do  not  allow  their  ignorance  and 
idleness  to  break  in  upon  those  morning  hours  which  you 
may  be  able  to  allot  to  your  serious  studies.  No  breakfast- 
ings  with  them,  which  consume  a  great  deal  of  time; 
but  tell  them  (not  magisterially  and  sententiously)  that 
you  will  read  two  or  three  hours  in  the  morning,  and 
that  for  the  rest  of  the  day  you  are  very  much  at  their 
service.  Though,  by  the  way,  I  hope  you  will  keep  wiser 
company  in  the  evenings. 

I  must  insist  upon  your  never  going  to  what  is  called 
the  English  coffee-house  at  Paris,  which  is  the  resort  of 
all  the  scrub  English,  and  also  of  the  fugitive  and  attainted 
Scotch  and  Irish;  party  quarrels  and  drunken  squabbles 
are  very  frequent  there ;  and  I  do  not  know  a  more 
degrading  place  in  all  Paris.  Coffee-houses  and  taverns 
are  by  no  means  creditable  at  Paris.  Be  cautiously  upon 
your  guard  against  the  infinite  number  of  fine-dressed  and 
fine-spoken  chevaliers  d' Industrie  and  avanturiers  which 
swarm  at  Paris:  and  keep  everybody  civilly  at  arm's  length, 
of  whose  real  character  or  rank  you  are  not  previously 
informed.  Monsieur  le  Comte  or  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  in 
a  handsome  laced  coat,  et  trbs  bien  mis,  accosts  you  at  the 
play,  or  some  other  public  place ;  he  conceives  at  first  sight 
an  infinite  regard  for  you:  he  sees  that  you  are  a  stranger 
of  the  first  distinction;  he  offers  you  his  services,  and  wishes 
nothing  more  ardently  than  to  contribute,  as  far  as  may  be 
in  his  little  power,  to  procure  you  les  agr^mens  de  Paris. 
He  is  acquainted  with  some  ladies  of  condition,  qui prej^rent 
une  petite  socie'te'  agr^able,  et  des  petits  soupers  aimables 
d*  honniltes  gens ,  au  tumulte  et  d,  la  dissipation  de  Paris;  and 
he  will  with  the  greatest  pleasure  imaginable  have  the 
honor  of  introducing  you  to  those  ladies  of  quality.  Well, 
if  you  were  to  accept  of  this  kind  offer,  and  go  with  him,. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  307 

you  would  find  au  troisibme  a  handsome,  painted  and  p d 

strumpet,  in  a  tarnished  silver  or  gold  second-hand  robe, 
playing  a  sham  party  at  cards  for  livres,  with  three  or 
four  sharpers  well  dressed  enough,  and  dignified  by  the 
titles  of  Marquis,  Comte,  and  Chevalier.  The  lady  receives 
you  in  the  most  polite  and  gracious  manner,  and  with  all 
those  complimens  de  routine  which  every  French  woman  has 
equally.  Though  she  loves  retirement,  and  shuns  le  grande 
monde,  yet  she  confesses  herself  obliged  to  the  Marquis  for 
having  procured  her  so  inestimable,  so  accomplished  an 
acquaintance  as  yourself;  but  her  concern  is  how  to  amuse 
you :  for  she  never  suffers  play  at  her  house  for  above  a 
livre ;  if  you  can  amuse  yourself  with  that  low  play  till 
supper,  a  la  bonne  heure.  Accordingly  you  sit  down  to  that 
little  play,  at  which  the  good  company  takes  care  that  you 
shall  win  fifteen  or  sixteen  livres,  which  gives  them  an 
opportunity  of  celebrating  both  your  good  luck  and  your 
good  play.  Supper  comes  up,  and  a  good  one  it  is,  upon 
the  strength  of  your  being  able  to  pay  for  it.  La  Marquise 
en  fait  les  honneurs  au  mieux,  talks  sentiments,  mceurs 
et  morale,  interlarded  with  enjouement^  and  accompanied 
with  some  oblique  ogles,  which  bid  you  not  despair  in 
time.  After  supper,  pharaoh,  lansquenet,  or  quinze,  happen 
accidentally  to  be  mentioned :  the  Marquise  exclaims  against 
it,  and  vows  she  will  not  suffer  it,  but  is  at  last  prevailed 
upon  by  being  assured  quc  ce  ne  sera  que  pour  des  riens. 
Then  the  wished-for  moment  is  come,  the  operation  begins: 
you  are  cheated,  at  best,  of  all  the  money  in  your  pocket, 
and  if  you  stay  late,  very  probably  robbed  of  your  watch 
and  snuff-box,  possibly  murdered  for  greater  security.  This 
I  can  assure  you,  is  not  an  exaggerated,  but  a  literal  de- 
scription of  what  happens  every  day  to  some  raw  and 
inexperienced  stranger  at  Paris.  Remember  to  receive  all 
these  civil  gentlemen,  who  take  such  a  fancy  to  you  at 
first  sight,  very  coldly,  and  take  care  always  to  be  pre- 
viously engaged,  whatever  party  they  propose  to  you.  You 
may  happen  sometimes,  in  very  great  and  good  companies, 
to  meet  with  some  dexterous  gentlemen,  who  may  be  very 
desirous,  and  also  very  sure,  to  win  your  money,  if  they 
can  but  engage  you  to  play  with  them.  Therefore  lay  it 
down  as  an  invariable  rule  never  to  play  with  men,  but 


308  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

only  with  women  of  fashion,  at  low  play,  or  with  women 
and  men  mixed.  But,  at  the  same  time,  whenever  you  are 
asked  to  play  deeper  than  you  would,  do  not  refuse  it 
gravely  and  sententiously,  alleging  the  folly  of  staking 
what  would  be  very  inconvenient  to  one  to  lose,  against 
what  one  does  not  want  to  win ;  but  parry  those  invitations 
ludicrously,  et  en  badinant.  Say  that,  if  you  were  sure  to 
lose,  you  might  possibly  play,  but  that  as  you  may  as  well 
win,  you  dread  V emb arras  des  rickesses,  ever  since  you 
have  seen  what  an  encumbrance  they  were  to  poor  Harle- 
quin, and  that,  therefore,  you  are  determined  never  to 
venture  the  winning  above  two  louis  a-day;  this  sort  of 
light  trifling  way  of  declining  invitations  to  vice  and  folly, 
is  more  becoming  your  age,  and  at  the  same  time  more 
effectual,  than  grave  philosophical  refusals.  A  young  fellow 
who  seems  to  have  no  will  of  his  own,  and  who  does 
everything  that  is  asked  of  him,  is  called  a  very  good- 
natured,  but  at  the  same  time,  is  thought  a  very  silly  young 
fellow.  Act  wisely,  upon  solid  principles,  and  from  true 
motives,  but  keep  them  to  yourself,  and  never  talk  senten- 
tiously. When  you  are  invited  to  drink,  say  that  you  wish 
you  could,  but  that  so  little  makes  you  both  drunk  and 
sick,  que  le  jeu  ne  vaut  pas  la  chandelle. 

Pray  show  great  attention,  and  make  your  court  to 
Monsieur  de  la  Gu6rini6re ;  he  is  well  with  Prince  Charles 
and  many  people  of  the  first  distinction  at  Paris ;  his  com- 
mendations will  raise  your  character  there,  not  to  mention 
that  his  favor  will  be  of  use  to  you  in  the  Academy  itself. 
For  the  reasons  which  I  mentioned  to  you  in  my  last,  I 
would  have  you  be  interne  in  the  Academy  for  the  first 
six  months ;  but  after  that,  I  promise  you  that  you  shall 
have  lodgings  of  your  own  dans  un  h6tel  garni,  if  in  the 
meantime  I  hear  well  of  you,  and  that  you  frequent,  and 
are  esteemed  in  the  best  French  companies.  You  want 
nothing  now,  thank  God,  but  exterior  advantages,  that  last 
polish,  that  tournure  du  monde,  and  those  graces,  which  are 
so  necessary  to  adorn,  and  give  efficacy  to,  the  most  solid 
merit.  They  are  only  to  be  acquired  in  the  best  companies, 
and  better  in  the  best  French  companies  than  in  any 
other.  You  will  not  want  opportunities,  for  I  shall  send 
you  letters  that  will  establish  you  in  the  most  distinguished 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  309 

companies,  not  only  of  the  beau  monde,  but  of  the  beaux 
espritS)  too.  Dedicate,  therefore,  I  beg  of  you,  that  whole 
year  to  your  own  advantage  and  final  improvement,  and  do 
not  be  diverted  from  those  objects  by  idle  dissipations,  low 
seduction,  or  bad  example.  After  that  year,  do  whatever 
you  please ;  I  will  interfere  no  longer  in  your  conduct ;  for 
I  am  sure  both  you  and  I  shall  be  safe  then.  Adieu  ! 


LETTER    CXI 

LONDON,  April  30,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  Mr.  Harte,  who  in  all  his  letters 
gives  you  some  dash  of  panegyric,  told  me  in  his 
last  a  thing  that  pleases  me  extremely;  which  was 
that  at  Rome  you  had  constantly  preferred  the  established 
Italian  assemblies  to  the  English  conventicles  set  up  against 
them  by  dissenting  English  ladies.  That  shows  sense,  and 
that  you  know  what  you  are  sent  abroad  for.  It  is  of 
much  more  consequence  to  know  the  mores  multorem  hom- 
inum  than  the  urbcs.  Pray  continue  this  judicious  conduct 
wherever  you  go,  especially  at  Paris,  where,  instead  of 
thirty,  you  will  find  above  three  hundred  English,  herding 
together  and  conversing  with  no  one  French  body. 

The  life  of  les  Milords  Anglois  is  regularly,  or,  if  you 
will,  irregularly,  this.  As  soon  as  they  rise,  which  is  very 
late,  they  breakfast  together,  to  the  utter  loss  of  two  good 
morning  hours.  Then  they  go  by  coachfuls  to  the  Palais, 
the  Invalides,  and  Notre-Dame ;  from  thence  to  the  English 
coffee-house,  where  they  make  up  their  tavern  party  for 
dinner.  From  dinner,  where  they  drink  quick,  they  adjourn 
in  clusters  to  the  play,  where  they  crowd  up  the  stage, 
dressed  up  in  very  fine  clothes,  very  ill-made  by  a  Scotch  or 
Irish  tailor.  From  the  play  to  the  tavern  again,  where  they 
get  very  drunk,  and  where  they  either  quarrel  among  them- 
selves, or  sally  forth,  commit  some  riot  in  the  streets,  and 
are  taken  up  by  the  watch.  Those  who  do  not  speak 
French  before  they  go,  are  sure  to  learn  none  there.  Their 
tender  vows  are  addressed  to  their  Irish  laundress,  unless  by 
chance  some  itinerant  Englishwoman,  eloped  from  her  hus- 


310  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

band,  or  her  creditors,  defrauds  her  of  them.  Thus  they 
return  home,  more  petulant,  but  not  more  informed,  than 
when  they  left  it ;  and  show,  as  they  think,  their  improve- 
ment by  affectedly  both  speaking  and  dressing  in  broken 

French  :  — 

<(  Hunc  tu  Romane  caveito. w 

Connect  yourself,  while  you  are  in  France,  entirely  with 
the  French  ;  improve  yourself  with  the  old,  divert  yourself 
with  the  young;  conform  cheerfully  to  their  customs,  even 
to  their  little  follies,  but  not  to  their  vices.  Do  not,  however, 
remonstrate  or  preach  against  them,  for  remonstrances  do 
not  suit  with  your  age.  In  French  companies  in  general  you 
will  not  find  much  learning,  therefore  take  care  not  to 
brandish  yours  in  their  faces.  People  hate  those  who  make 
them  feel  their  own  inferiority.  Conceal  all  your  learning 
carefully,  and  reserve  it  for  the  company  of  les  Gens 
d'Eglise,  or  les  Gens  de  Robe  ;  and  even  then  let  them  rather 
extort  it  from  you,  than  find  you  over-willing  to  draw  it. 
Your  are  then  thought,  from  that  seeming  unwillingness,  to 
have  still  more  knowledge  than  it  may  be  you  really  have, 
and  with  the  additional  merit  of  modesty  into  the  bargain. 
A  man  who  talks  of,  or  even  hints  at,  his  bonnes  fortunes ', 
is  seldom  believed,  or,  if  believed,  much  blamed ;  whereas 
a  man  who  conceals  with  care  is  often  supposed  to  have 
more  than  he  has,  and  his  reputation  of  discretion  gets  him 
others.  It  is  just  so  with  a  man  of  learning;  if  he  affects 
to  show  it,  it  is  questioned,  and  he  is  reckoned  only  super- 
ficial; but  if  afterward  it  appears  that  he  really  has  it,  he 
is  pronounced  a  pedant.  Real  merit  of  any  kind,  ubi  est 
non  potest  diu  celari ;  it  will  be  discovered,  and  nothing 
can  depreciate  it  but  a  man's  exhibiting  it  himself.  It 
may  not  always  be  rewarded  as  it  ought,  but  it  will  always 
be  known.  You  will  in  general  find  the  women  of  the 
beau  monde  at  Paris  more  instructed  than  the  men,  who 
are  bred  up  singly  for  the  army,  and  thrown  into  it  at 
twelve  or  thirteen  years  old;  but  then  that  sort  of  education, 
which  makes  them  ignorant  of  books,  gives  them  a  great 
knowledge  of  the  world,  an  easy  address,  and  polite  man- 
ners. 

Fashion  is  more  tyrannical  at  Paris  than  in  any  other 
place  in  the  world;  it  governs  even  more  absolutely  than 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  3" 

their  king,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal.  The  least  revolt 
against  it  is  punished  by  proscription.  You  must  observe, 
and  conform  to  all  the  minutice  of  it,  if  you  will  be  in 
fashion  there  yourself;  and  if  you  are  not  in  fashion,  you 
are  nobody.  Get,  therefore,  at  all  events,  into  the  company 
of  those  men  and  women  qui  donnent  le  ton;  and  though 
at  first  you  should  be  admitted  upon  that  shining  theatre 
only  as  a  persona  muta,  persist,  persevere,  and  you  will  soon 
have  a  part  given  you.  Take  great  care  never  to  tell  in 
one  company  what  you  see  or  hear  in  another,  much  less 
to  divert  the  present  company  at  the  expense  of  the  last; 
but  let  discretion  and  secrecy  be  known  parts  of  your  char- 
acter. They  will  carry  you  much  further,  and  much  safer 
than  more  shining  talents.  Be  upon  your  guard  against 
quarrels  at  Paris ;  honor  is  extremely  nice  there,  though  the 
asserting  of  it  is  exceedingly  penal.  Therefore,  point  de 
mauvaises  plaisanteries,  point  de  jeux  de  main,  et  point  de 
raillerie  piquante. 

Paris  is  the  place  in  the  world  where,  if  you  please,  you 
may  the  best  unite  the  utile  and  the  dulce.  Even  your 
pleasures  will  be  your  improvements,  if  you  take  them  with 
the  people  of  the  place,  and  in  high  life.  From  what  you 
have  hitherto  done  everywhere  else,  I  have  just  reason  to 
believe,  that  you  will  do  everything  that  you  ought  at 
Paris.  Remember  that  it  is  your  decisive  moment ;  what- 
ever you  do  there  will  be  known  to  thousands  here,  and 
your  character  there,  whatever  it  is,  will  get  before  you 
here.  You  will  meet  with  it  at  London.  May  you  and  I 
both  have  reason  to  rejoice  at  that  meeting!  Adieu. 


LETTER    CXII 

LONDON,  May  8,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  At  your  age  the  love  of  pleasures  is 
extremely    natural,  and    the    enjoyment  of    them    not 
unbecoming :  but  the  danger,  at  your  age,  is  mistak- 
ing the  object,  and  setting  out  wrong  in  the  pursuit.      The 
character  of  a  man  of  pleasure  dazzles  young  eyes ;  they  do 
not  see  their  way  to    it    distinctly,  and    fall   into    vice    and 


312  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

profligacy.  I  remember  a  strong  instance  of  this  a  great 
many  years  ago.  A  young  fellow,  determined  to  shine  as 
a  man  of  pleasure,  was  at  the  play  called  the  (<  Libertine 
Destroyed, })  a  translation  of  Le  Festin  de  Pierre  of  Moliere's. 
He  was  so  struck  with  what  he  thought  the  fine  character 
of  the  libertine,  that  he  swore  he  would  be  the  LIBERTINE 
DESTROYED.  Some  friends  asked  him,  whether  he  had  not 
better  content  himself  with  being  only  the  libertine,  but 
without  being  DESTROYED?  to  which  he  answered  with 
great  warmth,  (<No,  for  that  being  destroyed  was  the  per- 
fection of  the  whole.*  This,  extravagant  as  it  seems  in 
this  light,  is  really  the  case  of  many  an  unfortunate  young 
fellow,  who,  captivated  by  the  name  of  pleasures,  rushes  in- 
discriminately, and  without  taste,  into  them  all,  and  is  finally 
DESTROYED.  I  am  not  stoically  advising,  nor  parsonically 
preaching  to  you  to  be  a  Stoic  at  your  age;  far  from  it:  I 
am  pointing  out  to  you  the  paths  to  pleasures,  and  am  en- 
deavoring only  to  quicken  and  heighten  them  for  you. 
Enjoy  pleasures,  but  let  them  be  your  own,  and  then  you 
will  taste  them ;  but  adopt  none ;  trust  to  nature  for  genuine 
ones.  The  pleasures  that  you  would  feel  you  must  earn; 
the  man  who  gives  himself  up  to  all,  feels  none  sensibly. 
Sardanapalus,  I  am  convinced,  never  felt  any  in  his  life. 
Those  only  who  join  serious  occupations  with  pleasures, 
feel  either  as  they  should  do.  Alcibiades,  though  addicted 
to  the  most  shameful  excesses,  gave  some  time  to 
philosophy,  and  some  to  business.  Julius  Caesar  joined 
business  with  pleasure  so  properly,  that  they  mutually 
assisted  each  other ;  and  though  he  was  the  husband 
of  all  the  wives  at  Rome,  he  found  time  to  be  one  of 
the  best  scholars,  almost  the  best  orator,  and  absolutely  the 
best  general  there.  An  uninterrupted  life  of  pleasures  is  as 
insipid  as  contemptible.  Some  hours  given  every  day  to 
csrious  business  must  whet  both  the  mind  and  the  senses,  to 
enjoy  those  of  pleasure.  A  surfeited  glutton,  an  emaciated 
sot,  and  an  enervated  rotten  whoremaster,  never  enjoy  the 
pleasures  to  which  they  devote  themselves;  but  they  are  only 
so  many  human  sacrifices  to  false  gods.  The  pleasures  of 
low  life  are  all  of  this  mistaken,  merely  sensual,  and  dis- 
graceful nature ;  whereas,  those  of  high  life,  and  in  good 
company  (though  possibly  in  themselves  not  more  moral) 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  313 

are  more  delicate,  more  refined,  less  dangerous,  and  less  dis- 
graceful; and,  in  the  common  course  of  things,  not  reckoned 
disgraceful  at  all.  In  short,  pleasure  must  not,  nay,  can- 
not, be  the  business  of  a  man  of  sense  and  character;  but 
it  may  be,  and  is,  his  relief,  his  reward.  It  is  particularly 
so  with  regard  to  the  women;  who  have  the  utmost  con- 
tempt for  those  men,  that,  having  no  character  nor  consid- 
eration with  their  own  sex,  frivolously  pass  their  whole  time 
in  ruelles  and  at  toilettes.  They  look  upon  them  as  their 
lumber,  and  remove  them  whenever  they  can  get  better 
furniture.  Women  choose  their  favorites  more  by  the  ear 
than  by  any  other  of  their  senses  or  even  their  understand- 
ings. The  man  whom  they  hear  the  most  commended  by 
the  men,  will  always  be  the  best  received  by  them.  Such 
a  conquest  flatters  their  vanity,  and  vanity  is  their  universal, 
if  not  their  strongest  passion.  A  distinguished  shining  char- 
acter is  irresistible  with  them ;  they  crowd  to,  nay,  they 
even  quarrel  for  the  danger  in  hopes  of  the  triumph. 
Though,  by  the  way  (to  use  a  vulgar  expression),  she  who 
conquers  only  catches  a  Tartar,  and  becomes  the  slave  of 
her  captive.  Mais  c'est  la  leur  affaire.  Divide  your  time 
between  useful  occupations  and  elegant  pleasures.  The 
morning  seems  to  belong  to  study,  business,  or  serious  con- 
versations with  men  of  learning  and  figure ;  not  that  I  ex- 
clude an  occasional  hour  at  a  toilette.  From  sitting  down 
to  dinner,  the  proper  business  of  the  day  is  pleasure, 
unless  real  business,  which  must  never  be  postponed  for 
pleasure,  happens  accidentally  to  interfere.  In  good  com- 
pany, the  pleasures  of  the  table  are  always  carried  to  a  cer- 
tain point  of  delicacy  and  gratification,  but  never  to  excess 
and  riot.  Plays,  operas,  balls,  suppers,  gay  conversations 
in  polite  and  cheerful  companies,  properly  conclude  the 
evenings ;  not  to  mention  the  tender  looks  that  you  may  di- 
rect and  the  sighs  that  you  may  offer,  upon  these  several  occa- 
sions, to  some  propitious  or  unpropitious  female  deity,  whose 
character  and  manners  will  neither  disgrace  nor  corrupt 
yours.  This  is  the  life  of  a  man  of  real  sense  and  pleasure ; 
and  by  this  distribution  of  your  time,  and  choice  of  your 
pleasures,  you  will  be  equally  qualified  for  the  busy,  or  the 
beau  monde.  You  see  I  am  not  rigid,  and  do  not  require 
that  you  and  I  should  be  of  the  same  age.  What  I  say  to 


3H  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

you,  therefore,  should  have  the  more  weight,  as  coming  from 
a  friend,  not  a  father.  But  low  company,  and  their  low 
vices,  their  indecent  riots  and  profligacy,  I  never  will  bear 
nor  forgive. 

I  have  lately  received  two  volumes  of  treaties,  in  German 
and  Latin,  from  Hawkins,  with  your  orders,  under  your 
own  hand,  to  take  care  of  them  for  you,  which  orders  I 
shall  most  dutifully  and  punctually  obey,  and  they  wait  for 
you  in  my  library,  together  with  your  great  collection  of 
rare  books,  which  your  Mamma  sent  me  upon  removing 
from  her  old  house. 

I  hope  you  not  only  keep  up,  but  improve  in  your  German, 
for  it  will  be  of  great  use  to  you  when  you  come  into  busi- 
ness, and  the  more  so,  as  you  will  be  almost  the  only  Eng- 
lishman who  either  can  speak  or  understand  it.  Pray 
speak  it  constantly  to  all  Germans,  wherever  you  meet  them, 
and  you  will  meet  multitudes  of  them  at  Paris.  Is  Italian 
now  become  easy  and  familiar  to  you?  Can  you  speak  it 
with  the  same  fluency  that  you  can  speak  German?  You 
cannot  conceive  what  an  advantage  it  will  give  you  in  ne- 
gotiations to  possess  Italian,  German,  and  French  perfectly, 
so  as  to  understand  all  the  force  and  finesse  of  those  three 
languages.  If  two  men  of  equal  talents  negotiate  together, 
he  who  best  understands  the  language  in  which  the  negoti- 
ation is  carried  on,  will  infallibly  get  the  better  of  the 
other.  The  signification  and  force  of  one  single  word  is 
often  of  great  consequence  in  a  treaty,  and  even  in  a  letter. 

Remember  the  GRACES,  for  without  them  ogni  fatica  % 
vana.  Adieu. 


LETTER     CXIII 

LONDON,  May  17,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  Your  apprenticeship  is  near  out,  and 
you  are  soon  to  set   up    for  yourself;  that    approach- 
ing moment  is  a  critical  one  for  you,  and  an  anxious 
one  for  me.     A  tradesman  who  would  succeed  in  his  way, 
must  begin  by  establishing  a  character  of  integrity  and  good 
manners;   without    the  former,  nobody  will  go  to    his    shop 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  315 

at  all;  without  the  latter,  nobody  will  go  there  twice.  This 
rule  does  not  exclude  the  fair  arts  of  trade.  He  may  sell 
his  goods  at  the  best  price  he  can,  within  certain  bounds. 
He  may  avail  himself  of  the  humor,  the  whims,  and  the  fan- 
tastical tastes  of  his  customers;  but  what  he  warrants  to  be 
good  must  be  really  so,  what  he  seriously  asserts  must  be 
true,  or  his  first  fraudulent  profits  will  soon  end  in  a  bank- 
ruptcy. It  is  the  same  in  higher  life,  and  in  the  great 
business  of  the  world.  A  man  who  does  not  solidly  estab- 
lish, and  really  deserve,  a  character  of  truth,  probity,  good 
manners,  and  good  morals,  at  his  first  setting  out  in  the 
world,  may  impose,  and  shine  like  a  meteor  for  a  very  short 
time,  but  will  very  soon  vanish,  and  be  extinguished  with 
contempt.  People  easily  pardon,  in  young  men,  the  common 
irregularities  of  the  senses  :  but  they  do  not  forgive  the  least 
vice  of  the  heart.  The  heart  never  grows  better  by  age;  I  fear 
rather  worse  ;  always  harder.  A  young  liar  will  be  an  old  one  ; 
and  a  young  knave  will  only  be  a  greater  knave  as  he 
grows  older.  But  should  a  bad  young  heart,  accompanied  with 
a  good  head  (which,  by  the  way,  very  seldom  is  the  case), 
really  reform  in  a  more  advanced  age,  from  a  consciousness 
of  its  folly,  as  well  as  of  its  guilt ;  such  a  conversion 
would  only  be  thought  prudential  and  political,  but  never 
sincere.  I  hope  in  God,  and  I  verily  believe,  that  you  want 
no  moral  virtue.  But  the  possession  of  all  the  moral 
virtues,  in  actu  primo,  as  the  logicians  call  it,  is  not  suf- 
ficient ;  you  must  have  them  in  actu  secundo  too  ;  nay,  that 
is  not  sufficient  neither  —  you  must  have  the  reputation  of 
them  also.  Your  character  in  the  world  must  be  built  upon 
that  solid  foundation,  or  it  will  soon  fall,  and  upon  your 
own  head.  You  cannot,  therefore,  be  too  careful,  too  nice, 
too  scrupulous,  in  establishing  this  character  at  first,  upon 
which  your  whole  depends.  Let  no  conversation,  no  ex- 
ample, no  fashion,  no  bon  mot,  no  silly  desire  of  seeming  to 
be  above,  what  most  knaves,  and  many  fools,  call  prejudices, 
ever  tempt  you  to  avow,  excuse,  extenuate,  or  laugh  at 
the  least  breach  of  morality;  but  show  upon  all  occasions, 
and  take  all  occasions  to  show,  a  detestation  and  abhorrence 
of  it.  There,  though  young,  you  ought  to  be  strict ;  and 
there  only,  while  young,  it  becomes  you  to  be  strict  and 
severe.  But  there,  too,  spare  the  persons  while  you  lash  the 


316  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

crimes.  All  this  relates,  as  you  easily  judge,  to  the  vices  of 
the  heart,  such  as  lying,  fraud,  envy,  malice,  detraction, 
etc.,  and  I  do  not  extend  it  to  the  little  frailties  of  youth, 
flowing  from  high  spirits  and  warm  blood.  It  would  ill 
become  you,  at  your  age,  to  declaim  against  them,  and  sen- 
tentiously  censure  a  gallantry,  an  accidental  excess  of  the 
table,  a  frolic,  an  inadvertency ;  no,  keep  as  free  from  them 
yourself  as  you  can  :  but  say  nothing  against  them  in  oth- 
ers. They  certainly  mend  by  time,  often  by  reason ;  and 
a  man's  worldly  character  is  not  affected  by  them,  provided 
it  be  pure  in  all  other  respects. 

To  come  now  to  a  point  of  much  less,  but  yet  of  very 
great  consequence  at  your  first  setting  out.  Be  extremely 
upon  your  guard  against  vanity,  the  common  failing  of  in- 
experienced youth  ;  but  particularly  against  that  kind  of  van- 
ity that  dubs  a  man  a  coxcomb ;  a  character  which,  once 
acquired,  is  more  indelible  than  that  of  the  priesthood.  It  is 
not  to  be  imagined  by  how  many  different  ways  vanity  de- 
feats its  own  purposes.  One  man  decides  peremptorily  upon 
every  subject,  betrays  his  ignorance  upon  many,  and  shows  a 
disgusting  presumption  upon  the  rest.  Another  desires  to  ap- 
pear successful  among  the  women  ;  he  hints  at  the  encourage- 
ment he  has  received,  from  those  of  the  most  distinguished 
rank  and  beauty,  and  intimates  a  particular  connection  with 
some  one ;  if  it  is  true,  it  is  ungenerous  ;  if  false,  it  is  in- 
famous :  but  in  either  case  he  destroys  the  reputation  he  wants 
to  get.  Some  flatter  their  vanity  by  little  extraneous  ob- 
jects, which  have  not  the  least  relation  to  themselves ;  such 
as  being  descended  from,  related  to,  or  acquainted  with, 
people  of  distinguished  merit  and  eminent  characters.  They 
talk  perpetually  of  their  grandfather  such-a-one,  their  uncle 
such-a-one,  and  their  intimate  friend  Mr.  Such-a-one,  with 
whom,  possibly,  they  are  hardly  acquainted.  But  admit- 
ting it  all  to  be  as  they  would  have  it,  what  then?  Have 
they  the  more  merit  for  those  accidents?  Certainly  not. 
On  the  contrary,  their  taking  up  adventitious,  proves  their 
want  of  intrinsic  merit  ;  a  rich  man  never  borrows.  Take 
this  rule  for  granted,  as  a  never-failing  one :  That  you 
must  never  seem  to  affect  the  character  in  which  you  have 
a  mind  to  shine.  Modesty  is  the  only  sure  bait  when  you 
angle  for  praise.  The  affectation  of  courage  will  make 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  317 

even  a  brave  man  pass  only  for  a  bully  ;  as  the  affectation 
of  wit  will  make  a  man  of  parts  pass  for  a  coxcomb.  By 
this  modesty  I  do  not  mean  timidity  and  awkward  bashful- 
ness.  On  the  contrary,  be  inwardly  firm  and  steady,  know 
your  own  value  whatever  it  may  be,  and  act  upon  that 
principle  ;  but  take  great  care  to  let  nobody  discover  that 
you  do  know  your  own  value.  Whatever  real  merit  you 
have,  other  people  will  discover,  and  people  always  mag- 
nify their  own  discoveries,  as  they  lessen  those  of  others. 
For  God's  sake,  revolve  all  these  things  seriously  in  your 
thoughts,  before  you  launch  out  alone  into  the  ocean  of 
Paris.  Recollect  the  observations  that  you  have  yourself 
made  upon  mankind,  compare  and  connect  them  with  my 
instructions,  and  then  act  systematically  and  consequentially 
from  them  ;  not  au  jour  la  journte.  Lay  your  little  plan 
now,  which  you  will  hereafter  extend  and  improve  by  your 
own  observations,  and  by  the  advice  of  those  who  can 
never  mean  to  mislead  you ;  I  mean  Mr.  Harte  and  myself. 


LETTER    CXIV 

LONDON,  May  24,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  received  yesterday  your  letter  of 
the  7th,  N.  S. ,  from  Naples,  to  which  place  I  find 
you  have  traveled,  classically,  critically,  and  da  vir- 
tuoso. You  did  right,  for  whatever  is  worth  seeing  at  all, 
is  worth  seeing  well,  and  better  than  most  people  see  it. 
It  is  a  poor  and  frivolous  excuse,  when  anything  curious 
is  talked  of  that  one  has  seen,  to  say,  I  SAW  IT,  BUT 
REALLY  I  DID  NOT  MUCH  MIND  IT.  Why  did  they  go  to 
see  it,  if  they  would  not  mind  it?  or  why  not  mind  it 
when  they  saw  it?  Now  that  you  are  at  Naples,  you  pass 
part  of  your  time  there  en  honnete  homme^  da  garbato  cava- 
liere,  in  the  court  and  the  best  companies.  I  am  told  that 
strangers  are  received  with  the  utmost  hospitality  at 

Prince 's,  que  lui  il  fait  bonne  chere,  et  que  Madame  la 

Princesse  donne  cJiere  entitre;  mats  que  sa  chair  est  -plus 
que  hazardee  ou  mortijifo  m$me;  which  in  plain  English 
means,  that  she  is  not  only  tender,  but  rotten.  If  this  be 


318  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

true,  as  I  am  pretty  sure  it  is,  one  may  say  to  her  in  a  little 
sense,  Juvenumque  prodis,  publica  cura. 

Mr.  Harte  informs  me  that  you  are  clothed  in  sumptuous 
apparel ;  a  young  fellow  should  be  so,  especially  abroad, 
where  fine  clothes  are  so  generally  the  fashion.  Next  to 
their  being  fine,  they  should  be  well  made,  and  worn  easily  : 
for  a  man  is  only  the  less  genteel  for  a  fine  coat,  if,  in 
wearing  it,  he  shows  a  regard  for  it,  and  is  not  as  easy  in 
it  as  if  it  were  a  plain  one. 

I  thank  you  for  your  drawing,  which  I  am  impatient  to  see, 
and  which  I  shall  hang  up  in  a  new  gallery  that  I  am  build- 
ing at  Blackheath,  and  very  fond  of;  but  I  am  still  more 
impatient  for  another  copy,  which  I  wonder  I  have  not 
yet  received,  I  mean  the  copy  of  your  countenance.  I  be- 
lieve, were  that  a  whole  length,  it  would  still  fall  a  good  deal 
short  of  the  dimensions  of  the  drawing  after  Dominichino, 
which  you  say  is  about  eight  feet  high ;  and  I  take  you, 
as  well  as  myself,  to  be  of  the  family  of  the  Piccolomini. 
Mr.  Bathurst  tells  me  that  he  thinks  you  rather  taller  than 
I  am ;  if  so,  you  may  very  possibly  get  up  to  five  feet  eight 
inches,  which  I  would  compound  for,  though  I  would  wish  you 
five  feet  ten.  In  truth,  what  do  I  not  wish  you,  that  has  a  tend- 
ency to  perfection?  I  say  a  tendency  only,  for  absolute 
perfection  is  not  in  human  nature,  so  that  it  would  be  idle 
to  wish  it.  But  I  am  very  willing  to  compound  for  your 
coming  nearer  to  perfection  than  the  generality  of  your 
contemporaries:  without  a  compliment  to  you,  I  think  you 
bid  fair  for  that.  Mr.  Harte  affirms  (and  if  it  were  consistent 
with  his  character  would,  I  believe,  swear)  that  you  have 
no  vices  of  the  heart;  you  have  undoubtedly  a  stock  of 
both  ancient  and  modern  learning,  which  I  will  venture 
to  say  nobody  of  your  age  has,  and  which  must  now  daily 
increase,  do  what  you  will.  What,  then,  do  you  want 
toward  that  practicable  degree  of  perfection  which  I  wish  you  ? 
Nothing  but  the  knowledge,  the  turn,  and  the  manners  of  the 
world;  I  mean  the  beau  monde.  These  it  is  impossible  that  you 
can  yet  have  quite  right  ;  they  are  not  given,  they  must  be 
learned.  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  impossible  not 
to  acquire  them,  if  one  has  a  mind  to  them ;  for  they 
are  acquired  insensibly,  by  keeping  good  company,  if  one 
has  but  the  least  attention  to  their  characters  and  manners. 


LETTERS   TO   HIS  SON  319 

Every  man  becomes,  to  a  certain  degree,  what  the  people 
he  generally  converses  with  are.  He  catches  their  air,  their 
manners,  and  even  their  way  of  thinking.  If  he  observes 
with  attention,  he  will  catch  them  soon,  but  if  he  does  not, 
he  will  at  long  run  contract  them  insensibly.  I  know 
nothing  in  the  world  but  poetry  that  is  not  to  be  acquired 
by  application  and  care.  The  sum  total  of  this  is  a  very 
comfortable  one  for  you,  as  it  plainly  amounts  to  this  in 
your  favor,  that  you  now  want  nothing  but  what  even  your 
pleasures,  if  they  are  liberal  ones,  will  teach  you.  I  congratu- 
late both  you  and  myself  upon  your  being  in  such  a  situa- 
tion, that,  excepting  your  exercises,  nothing  is  now  wanting 
but  pleasures  to  complete  you.  Take  them,  but  (as  I  am 
sure  you  will)  with  people  of  the  first  fashion,  where- 
ever  you  are,  and  the  business  is  done ;  your  exercises 
at  Paris,  which  I  am  sure  you  will  attend  to,  will  supple 
and  fashion  your  body ;  and  the  company  you  will  keep 
there  will,  with  some  degree  of  observation  on  your  part, 
soon  give  you  their  air,  address,  manners,  in  short,  le  ton 
de  la  bonne  compagnie.  Let  not  these  considerations,  how- 
ever, make  you  vain  :  they  are  only  between  you  and  me  : 
but  as  they  are  very  comfortable  ones,  they  may  justly 
give  you  a  manly  assurance,  a  firmness,  a  steadiness,  with- 
out which  a  man  can  neither  be  well-bred,  or  in  any  light 
appear  to  advantage,  or  really  what  he  is.  They  may  justly 
remove  all  timidity,  awkward  bashfulness,  low  diffidence 
of  one's  self,  and  mean  abject  complaisance  to  every  or  any- 
body's opinion.  La  BruySre  says,  very  truly,  on  ne  vaut 
dans  ce  monde,  que  ce  que  Von  veut  valoir.  It  is  a  right 
principle  to  proceed  upon  in  the  world,  taking  care  only 
to  guard  against  the  appearances  and  outward  symptoms 
of  vanity.  Your  whole  then,  you  see,  turns  upon  the  company 
you  keep  for  the  future.  I  have  laid  you  in  variety  of  the  best 
at  Paris,  where,  at  your  arrival  you  will  find  a  cargo  of  letters 
to  very  different  sorts  of  people,  as  beaux  esprits,  savants,  et 
belles  dames.  These,  if  you  will  frequent  them,  will  form 
you,  not  only  by  their  examples,  advice,  and  admonitions  in 
private,  as  I  have  desired  them  to  do ;  and  consequently  add 
to  what  you  have  the  only  one  thing  now  needful. 

Pray    tell    me    what    Italian    books    you    have    read,    and 
whether   that    language    is    now     become    familiar    to    you. 


320  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Read  Ariosto  and  Tasso  through,  and  then  you  will  have 
read  all  the  Italian  poets  who  in  my  opinion  are  worth 
reading.  In  all  events,  when  you  get  to  Paris,  take  a  good 
Italian  master  to  read  Italian  with  you  three  times  a  week; 
not  only  to  keep  what  you  have  already,  which  you  would 
otherwise  forget,  but  also  to  perfect  you  in  the  rest.  It  is 
a  great  pleasure,  as  well  as  a  great  advantage,  to  be 
able  to  speak  to  people  of  all  nations,  and  well,  in  their 
own  language.  Aim  at  perfection  in  everything,  though 
in  most  things  it  is  unattainable ;  however,  they  who 
aim  at  it,  and  persevere,  will  come  much  nearer  it,  than 
those  whose  laziness  and  despondency  make  them  give  it  up 
as  unattainable.  Magnis  tamen  excidit  ausis  is  a  degree  of 
praise  which  will  always  attend  a  noble  and  shining  temerity, 
and  a  much  better  sign  in  a  young  fellow,  than  serpere  humi, 
tutus  nimium  timidusque  procelloe.  For  men  as  well  as 

women :  — 

<( born  to  be  controlled, 

Stoop  to  the  forward  and  the  bold.® 

A  man  who  sets  out  in  the  world  with  real  timidity  and 
diffidence  has  not  an  equal  chance  for  it ;  he  will  be  discour- 
aged, put  by,  or  trampled  upon.  But  to  succeed,  a  man,  espe- 
cially a  young  one,  should  have  in  ward  firmness,  steadiness,  and 
intrepidity,  with  exterior  modesty  and  SEKMING  diffidence. 
He  must  modestly,  but  resolutely,  assert  his  own  rights  and 
privileges.  Suaviter  in  modo,  but  fortiter  in  re.  He  should 
have  an  apparent  frankness  and  openness,  but  with  inward  cau- 
tion and  closeness.  All  these  things  will  come  to  you  by 
frequenting  and  observing  good  company.  And  by  good 
company,  I  mean  that  sort  of  company  which  is  called  good 
company  by  everybody  of  that  place.  When  all  this  is 
over,  we  shall  meet ;  and  then  we  will  talk  over,  tete-  d-tete, 
the  various  little  finishing  strokes  which  conversation  and 
acquaintance  occasionally  suggest,  and  which  cannot  be  meth- 
odically written. 

Tell  Mr.  Harte  that  I  have  received  his  two  letters  of  the 
2d  and  8th  N.  S.,  which,  as  soon  as  I  have  received  a  third, 
I  will  answer.  Adieu,  my  dear!  I  find  you  will  do. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  321 


LETTER     CXV 

LONDON,  June  5,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  have  received  your  picture,  which 
I  have  long  waited  for  with  impatience :  I  wanted 
to  see  your  countenance  from  whence  I  am  very  apt, 
as  I  believe  most  people  are,  to  form  some  general  opinion 
of  the  mind.  If  the  painter  has  taken  you  as  well  as  he 
has  done  Mr.  Harte  (for  his  picture  is  by  far  the  most 
like  I  ever  saw  in  my  life),  I  draw  good  conclusions  from 
your  countenance,  which  has  both  spirit  and  finesse  in  it. 
In  bulk  you  are  pretty  well  increased  since  I  saw  you;  if 
your  height  has  not  increased  in  proportion,  I  desire  that 
you  will  make  haste  to  complete  it.  Seriously,  I  believe 
that  your  exercises  at  Paris  will  make  you  shoot  up  to  a 
good  size ;  your  legs,  by  all  accounts,  seem  to  promise  it. 
Dancing  excepted,  the  wholesome  part  is  the  best  part  of 
those  academical  exercises.  Us  dtgraissent  leur  homme.  A 
•propos  of  exercises,  I  have  prepared  everything  for  your 
reception  at  Monsieur  de  la  Gu6riniere's,  and  your  room, 
etc.,  will  be  ready  at  your  arrival.  I  am  sure  you  must  be 
sensible  how  much  better  it  will  be  for  you  to  be  interne  in 
the  Academy  for  the  first  six  or  seven  months  at  least,  than 
to  be  en  hdtel  garni,  at  some  distance  from  it,  and  obliged 
to  go  to  it  every  morning,  let  the  weather  be  what  it  will, 
not  to  mention  the  loss  of  time  too;  besides,  by  living  and 
boarding  in  the  Academy,  you  will  make  an  acquaintance 
with  half  the  young  fellows  of  fashion  at  Paris ;  and  in  a 
very  little  while  be  looked  upon  as  one  of  them  in  all 
French  companies  :  an  advantage  that  has  never  yet  hap- 
pened to  any  one  Englishman  that  I  have  known.  I  am 
sure  you  do  not  suppose  that  the  difference  of  the  expense, 
which  is  but  a  trifle,  has  any  weight  with  me  in  this  resolu- 
tion. You  have  the  French  language  so  perfectly,  and  you 
will  acquire  the  French  tournure  so  soon,  that  I  do  not  know 
anybody  likely  to  pass  their  time  so  well  at  Paris  as  your- 
self. Our  young  countrymen  have  generally  too  little 
French,  and  too  bad  address,  either  to  present  themselves, 
21 


322  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

or  be  well  received  in  the  best  French  companies;  and,  as 
a  proof  of  it,  there  is  no  one  instance  of  an  Englishman's 
having  ever  been  suspected  of  a  gallantry  with  a  French 
woman  of  condition,  though  every  French  woman  of  con- 
dition is  more  than  suspected  of  having  a  gallantry.  But 
they  take  up  with  the  disgraceful  and  dangerous  commerce 
of  prostitutes,  actresses,  dancing-women,  and  that  sort  of 
trash;  though,  if  they  had  common  address,  better  achieve- 
ments would  be  extremely  easy.  Un  arrangement,  which 
is  in  plain  English  a  gallantry,  is,  at  Paris,  as  necessary 
a  part  of  a  woman  of  fashion's  establishment,  as  her  house, 
stable,  coach,  etc.  A  young  fellow  must  therefore  be  a 
very  awkward  one,  to  be  reduced  to,  or  of  a  very  singular 
taste,  to  prefer  drabs  and  danger  to  a  commerce  (in  the 
course  of  the  world  not  disgraceful)  with  a  woman  of 
health,  education,  and  rank.  Nothing  sinks  a  young  man 
into  low  company,  both  of  women  and  men,  so  surely  as 
timidity  and  diffidence  of  himself.  If  he  thinks  that  he 
shall  not,  he  may  depend  upon  it  he  will  not  please.  But 
with  proper  endeavors  to  please,  and  a  degree  of  persuasion 
that  he  shall,  it  is  almost  certain  that  he  will.  How  many 
people  does  one  meet  with  everywhere,  who,  with  very 
moderate  parts,  and  very  little  knowledge,  push  themselves 
pretty  far,  simply  by  being  sanguine,  enterprising,  and 
persevering?  They  will  take  no  denial  from  man  or  woman ; 
difficulties  do  not  discourage  them ;  repulsed  twice  or  thrice, 
they  rally,  they  charge  again,  and  nine  times  in  ten  prevail 
at  last.  The  same  means  will  much  sooner,  and  more  cer- 
tainly, attain  the  same  ends,  with  your  parts  and  knowl- 
edge. You  have  a  fund  to  be  sanguine  upon,  and  good 
forces  to  rally.  In  business  (talents  supposed)  nothing  is 
more  effectual  or  successful,  than  a  good,  though  concealed 
opinion  of  one's  self,  a  firm  resolution,  and  an  unwearied 
perseverance.  None  but  madmen  attempt  impossibilities ; 
and  whatever  is  possible,  is  one  way  or  another  to  be 
brought  about.  If  one  method  fails,  try  another,  and  suit 
your  methods  to  the  characters  you  have  to  do  with.  At 
the  treaty  of  the  Pyrenees,  which  Cardinal  Mazarin  and 
Don  Louis  de  Haro  concluded,  dans  r Isle  des  Faisans, 
the  latter  carried  some  very  important  points  by  his  con- 
stant and  cool  perseverance. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  323 

The  Cardinal  had  all  the  Italian  vivacity  and  impatience; 
Don  Louis  all  the  Spanish  phlegm  and  tenaciousness.  The 
point  which  the  Cardinal  had  most  at  heart  was,  to  hinder 
the  re-establishment  of  the  Prince  of  Cond6,  his  implacable 
enemy ;  but  he  was  in  haste  to  conclude,  and  impatient  to 
return  to  Court,  where  absence  is  always  dangerous.  Don 
Louis  observed  this,  and  never  failed  at  every  conference 
to  bring  the  affair  of  the  Prince  of  Cond6  upon  the  tapis. 
The  Cardinal  for  some  time  refused  even  to  treat  upon  it. 
Don  Louis,  with  the  same  sang  frotd,  as  constantly  per- 
sisted, till  he  at  last  prevailed :  contrary  to  the  intentions 
and  the  interest  both  of  the  Cardinal  and  of  his  Court. 
Sense  must  distinguish  between  what  is  impossible,  and 
what  is  only  difficult ;  and  spirit  and  perseverance  will  get 
the  better  of  the  latter.  Every  man  is  to  be  had  one  way 
or  another,  and  every  woman  almost  any  way.  I  must  not 
omit  one  thing,  which  is  previously  necessary  to  this,  and, 
indeed,  to  everything  else ;  which  is  attention,  a  flexibility 
of  attention ;  never  to  be  wholly  engrossed  by  any  past  or 
future  object,  but  instantly  directed  to  the  present  one,  be 
it  what  it  will.  An  absent  man  can  make  but  few  observa- 
tions; and  those  will  be  disjointed  and  imperfect  ones,  as 
half  the  circumstance  must  necessarily  escape  him.  He  can 
pursue  nothing  steadily,  because  his  absences  make  him  lose 
his  way.  They  are  very  disagreeable,  and  hardly  to  be  toler- 
ated in  old  age;  but  in  youth  they  cannot  be  forgiven.  If  you 
find  that  you  have  the  least  tendency  to  them,  pray  watch  your- 
self very  carefully,  and  you  may  prevent  them  now;  but  if 
you  let  them  grow  into  habit,  you  will  find  it  very  difficult  to 
cure  them  hereafter,  and  a  worse  distemper  I  do  not  know. 

I  heard  with  great  satisfaction  the  other  day,  from  one 
who  has  been  lately  at  Rome,  that  nobody  was  better 
received  in  the  best  companies  than  yourself.  The  same 
thing,  I  dare  say,  will  happen  to  you  at  Paris;  where  they 
are  particularly  kind  to  all  strangers,  who  will  be  civil  to 
them,  and  show  a  desire  of  pleasing.  But  they  must  be 
flattered  a  little,  not  only  by  words,  but  by  a  seeming 
preference  given  to  their  country,  their  manners,  and  their 
customs;  which  is  but  a  very  small  price  to  pay  for  a 
very  good  reception.  Were  I  in  Africa,  I  would  pay  it 
to  a  negro  for  his  good-will.  Adieu. 


324  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER    CXVI 

LONDON,  June  n,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :    The  President  Montesquieu  (whom 
you  will  be  acquainted  with  at  Paris),  after  having 
laid    down    in  his  book,    De  F  Esprit   des   Lois,  the 
nature    and  principles    of  the    three  different  kinds  of    gov- 
ernment,   viz,    the    democratical,    the    monarchical,  and    the 
despotic,  treats  of  the  education   necessary  for  each  respect- 
ive form.       His  chapter  upon   the  education    proper  for  the 
monarchical  I  thought    worth  transcribing    and    sending    to 
you.     You  will  observe  that  the  monarchy  which  he  has  in 
his  eye  is  France:  — 

*  In  monarchies,  the  principal  branch  of  education  is  not 
taught    in    colleges    or    academies.     It  commences,  in    some 
measure,  at    our  setting    out  in    the  world ;    for   this  is  the 
school    of    what    we    call    honor,    that    universal    preceptor, 
which  ought  everywhere  to  be  our  guide. 

*  Here  it  is  that  we  constantly  hear  three  rules  or  maxims, 
viz  :  That  we  should  have  a  certain  nobleness  in  our  virtues, 
a  kind  of  frankness  in   our  morals,    and  a  particular  polite- 
ness in  our  behavior. 

*The  virtues  we  are  here  taught,  are  less  what  we  owe 
to  others,  than  to  ourselves ;  they  are  not  so  much  what 
draws  us  toward  society,  as  what  distinguishes  us  from 
our  fellow-citizens. 

*  Here    the    actions    of    men    are  judged,  not    as  virtuous, 
but  as  shining;  not  as  just,  but  as  great;  not  as  reasonable, 
but  as  extraordinary. 

(<  When  honor  here  meets  with  anything  noble  in  our 
actions,  it  is  either  a  judge  that  approves  them,  or  a 
sophister  by  whom  they  are  excused. 

w  It  allows  of  gallantry,  when  united  with  the  idea  of 
sensible  affection,  or  with  that  of  conquest;  this  is  the 
reason  why  we  never  meet  with  so  strict  a  purity  of  morals 
in  monarchies  as  in  republican  governments. 

*It  allows  of  cunning  and  craft,  when  joined  with  the 
notion  of  greatness  of  soul  or  importance  of  affairs ;  as,  for 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  315 

instance,  in  politics,  with  whose  finenesses  it  is  far  from 
being  offended. 

"  It  does  not  forbid  adulation,  but  when  separate  from 
the  idea  of  a  large  fortune,  and  connected  only  with  the 
sense  of  our  mean  condition. 

<(  With  regard  to  morals,  I  have  observed,  that  the  educa- 
tion of  monarchies  ought  to  admit  of  a  certain  frankness 
and  open  carriage.  Truth,  therefore,  in  conversation,  is 
here  a  necessary  point.  But  is  it  for  the  sake  of  truth? 
By  no  means.  Truth  is  requisite  only,  because  a  person 
habituated  to  veracity  has  an  air  of  boldness  and  freedom. 
And,  indeed,  a  man  of  this  stamp  seems  to  lay  a  stress 
only  on  the  things  themselves,  not  on  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  received. 

<(  Hence  it  is,  that  in  proportion  as  this  kind  of  franknesa 
is  commended,  that  of  the  common  people  is  despised, 
which  has  nothing  but  truth  and  simplicity  for  its  object. 

(<  In  fine,  the  education  of  monarchies  requires  a  certain 
politeness  of  behavior.  Man,  a  sociable  animal,  is  formed 
to  please  in  society;  and  a  person  that  would  break  through 
the  rules  of  decency,  so  as  to  shock  those  he  conversed 
with,  would  lose  the  public  esteem,  and  become  incapable 
of  doing  any  good. 

"But  politeness,  generally  speaking,  does  not  derive  its 
original  from  so  pure  a  source.  It  arises  from  a  desire  of 
distinguishing  ourselves.  It  is  pride  that  renders  us  polite; 
we  are  flattered  with  being  taken  notice  of  for  a  behavior 
that  shows  we  are  not  of  a  mean  condition,  and  that  we 
have  not  been  bred  up  with  those  who  in  all  ages  are  con- 
sidered as  the  scum  of  the  people. 

*  Politeness,  in  monarchies,   is  naturalized  at    court.     One 
man  excessively  great  renders  everybody  else    little.     Hence 
that  regard  which  is  paid  to  our  fellow-subjects;  hence  that 
politeness,  equally  pleasing  to   those  by  whom,  as  to   those 
toward  whom,    it    is    practiced ;    because    it    gives  people  to 
understand    that    a    person    actually    belongs,    or     at     least 
deserves  to  belong,  to  the  court. 

*  A  court    air  consists    in  quitting   a  real    for  a  borrowed 
greatness.     The    latter    pleases    the    courtier   more    than    the 
former.     It  inspires  him  with  a  certain  disdainful  modesty, 
which    shows    itself   externally,  but  whose    pride    insensibly 


326  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

diminishes  in  proportion  to  his  distance  from  the  source  of 
this  greatness. 

(<At  court  we  find  a  delicacy  of  taste  in  everything;  a 
delicacy  arising  from  the  constant  use  of  the  superfluities 
of  life ;  from  the  variety,  and  especially  the  satiety  of 
pleasures ;  from  the  multiplicity  and  even  confusion  of 
fancies,  which,  if  they  are  not  agreeable,  are  sure  of  being 
well  received. 

<(  These  are  the  things  which  properly  fall  within  the 
province  of  education,  in  order  to  form  what  we  call  a 
man  of  honor,  a  man  possessed  of  all  the  qualities  and 
virtues  requisite  in  this  kind  of  government. 

<(  Here  it  is  that  honor  interferes  with  everything,  mixing 
even  with  people's  manner  of  thinking,  and  directing  their 
very  principles. 

"To  this  whimsical  honor  it  is  owing  that  the  virtues 
are  only  just  what  it  pleases ;  it  adds  rules  of  its  own  in- 
vention to  everything  prescribed  to  us ;  it  extends  or  limits 
our  duties  according  to  its  own  fancy,  whether  they  proceed 
from  religion,  politics,  or  morality. 

(<  There  is  nothing  so  strongly  inculcated  in  monarchies, 
by  the  laws,  by  religion,  and  honor,  as  submission  to  the 
Prince's  will,  but  this  very  honor  tells  us,  that  the  Prince 
never  ought  to  command  a  dishonorable  action,  because 
-this  would  render  us  incapable  of  serving  him. 

"Crillon  refused  to  assassinate  the  Duke  of  Guise,  but 
•offered  to  fight  him.  After  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
Charles  IX.,  having  sent  orders  to  the  governors  in  the 
several  provinces  for  the  Huguenots  to  be  murdered,  Vis- 
count Dorte,  who  commanded  at  Bayonne,  wrote  thus  to 
the  King:  (  Sire,  Among  the  inhabitants  of  this  town,  and 
your  Majesty's  troops,  I  could  not  find  so  much  as  one 
executioner;  they  are  honest  citizens  and  brave  soldiers. 
We  jointly,  therefore,  beseech  your  Majesty  to  command 
our  arms  and  lives  in  things  that  are  practicable.*  This 
great  and  generous  soul  looked  upon  a  base  action  as  a 
thing  impossible. 

*  There  is  nothing  that  honor  more  strongly  recommends 
to  the  nobility,  than  to  serve  their  Prince  in  a  military 
capacity.  And  indeed  this  is  their  favorite  profession, 
because  its  dangers,  its  success,  and  even  its  miscarriages, 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  327 

are  the  road  to  grandeur.  Yet  this  very  law,  of  its  own 
making,  honor  chooses  to  explain  ;  and  in  case  of  any 
affront,  it  requires  or  permits  us  to  retire. 

<(  It  insists  also,  that  we  should  be  at  liberty  either  to 
seek  or  to  reject  employments;  a  liberty  which  it  prefers 
even  to  an  ample  fortune. 

<(  Honor,  therefore,  has  its  supreme  laws,  to  which  education 
is  obliged  to  conform.  The  chief  of  these  are,  that  we  are 
permitted  to  set  a  value  upon  our  fortune,  but  are  absolutely 
forbidden  to  set  any  upon  our  lives. 

(<  The  second  is,  that  when  we  are  raised  to  a  post  or 
preferment,  we  should  never  do  or  permit  anything  which 
may  seem  to  imply  that  we  look  upon  ourselves  as  inferior 
to  the  rank  we  hold. 

(<  The  third  is,  that  those  things  which  honor  forbids  are 
more  rigorously  forbidden,  when  the  laws  do  not  concur  in 
the  prohibition  ;  and  those  it  commands  are  more  strongly 
insisted  upon,  when  they  happen  not  to  be  commanded  by 


Though  our  government  differs  considerably  from  the 
French,  inasmuch  as  we  have  fixed  laws  and  constitutional 
barriers  for  the  security  of  our  liberties  and  properties,  yet 
the  President's  observations  hold  pretty  near  as  true  in 
England  as  in  France.  Though  monarchies  may  differ  a 
good  deal,  kings  differ  very  little.  Those  who  are  absolute 
desire  to  continue  so,  and  those  who  are  not,  endeavor  to 
become  so  ;  hence  the  same  maxims  and  manners  almost  in 
all  courts  :  voluptuousness  and  profusion  encouraged,  the  one 
to  sink  the  people  into  indolence,  the  other  into  poverty  — 
consequently  into  dependence.  The  court  is  called  the 
world  here  as  well  as  at  Paris  ;  and  nothing  more  is  meant 
by  saying  that  a  man  knows  the  world,  than  that  he  knows 
courts.  In  all  courts  you  must  expect  to  meet  with  con- 
nections without  friendship,  enmities  without  hatred,  honor 
without  virtue,  appearances  saved,  and  realities  sacrificed; 
good  manners  with  bad  morals  ;  and  all  vice  and  virtues  so 
disguised,  that  whoever  has  only  reasoned  upon  both  would 
know  neither  when  he  first  met  them  at  court.  It  is  well 
that  you  should  know  the  map  of  that  country,  that  when 
you  come  to  travel  in  it,  you  may  do  it  with  greater  safety. 


328  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

From  all  this  you  will  of  yourself  draw  this  obvious  con- 
clusion: That  you  are  in  truth  but  now  going  to  the  great 
and  important  school,  the  world;  to  which  Westminster  and 
Leipsig  were  only  the  little  preparatory  schools,  as  Mary- 
le-bone,  Windsor,  etc.,  are  to  them.  What  you  have  already 
acquired  will  only  place  you  in  the  second  form  of  this 
new  school,  instead  of  the  first.  But  if  you  intend,  as  I 
suppose  you  do,  to  get  into  the  shell,  you  have  very  differ- 
ent things  to  learn  from  Latin  and  Greek  :  and  which  re- 
quire much  more  sagacity  and  attention  than  those  two 
dead  languages;  the  language  of  pure  and  simple  nature; 
the  language  of  nature  variously  modified  and  corrupted 
by  passions,  prejudices,  and  habits ;  the  language  of  simu- 
lation and  dissimulation  :  very  hard,  but  very  necessary  to 
decipher.  Homer  has  not  half  so  many,  nor  so  difficult 
dialects,  as  the  great  book  of  the  school  you  are  now  going 
to.  Observe,  therefore,  progressively,  and  with  the  greatest 
attention,  what  the  best  scholars  in  the  form  immediately 
above  you  do,  and  so  on,  until  you  get  into  the  shell  your- 
self. Adieu. 

Pray  tell  Mr.  Harte  that  I  have  received  his  letter  of 
the  2yth  May,  N.  S.,  and  that  I  advise  him  never  to  take 
the  English  news-writers  literally,  who  never  yet  inserted 
any  one  thing  quite  right.  I  have  both  his  patent  and  his 
mandamus,  in  both  which  he  is  Walter,  let  the  newspapers 
call  him  what  they  please. 


LETTER   CXVII 

LONDON,  July  9,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  should  not  deserve  that  appellation 
in  return  from  you,  if  I  did  not  freely  and  explicitly 
inform  you    of    every  corrigible    defect  which  I  may 
either   hear   of,  suspect,   or   at    any    time    discover    in    you. 
Those  who,   in    the    common  course  of  the  world,    will  call 
themselves  your  friends;  or  whom,   according    to    the    com- 
mon  notions    of    friendship,   you    may  possibly  think    such. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  329 

will  never  tell  you  of  your  faults,  still  less  of  your  weak- 
nesses. But,  on  the  contrary,  more  desirous  to  make  you 
their  friend,  than  to  prove  themselves  yours,  they  will  flatter 
both,  and,  in  truth,  not  be  sorry  for  either.  Interiorly, 
most  people  enjoy  the  inferiority  of  their  best  friends.  The 
useful  and  essential  part  of  friendship,  to  you,  is  reserved 
singly  for  Mr.  Harte  and  myself :  our  relations  to  you 
stand  pure  and  unsuspected  of  all  private  views.  In  what- 
ever we  say  to  you,  we  can  have  no  interest  but  yours. 
We  are  therefore  authorized  to  represent,  advise,  and  re- 
monstrate ;  and  your  reason  must  tell  you  that  you  ought  to 
attend  to  and  believe  us. 

I  am  credibly  informed,  that  there  is  still  a  considerable 
hitch  or  hobble  in  your  enunciation ;  and  that  when  you 
speak  fast  you  sometimes  speak  unintelligibly.  I  have 
formerly  and  frequently  laid  my  thoughts  before  you  so  fully 
upon  this  subject,  that  I  can  say  nothing  new  upon  it  now. 
I  must  therefore  only  repeat,  that  your  whole  depends  upon 
it.  Your  trade  is  to  speak  well,  both  in  public  and  in 
private.  The  manner  of  your  speaking  is  full  as  important 
as  the  matter,  as  more  people  have  ears  to  be  tickled,  than 
understandings  to  judge.  Be  your  productions  ever  so  good, 
they  will  be  of  no  use,  if  you  stifle  and  strangle  them  in 
their  birth.  The  best  compositions  of  Corelli,  if  ill  executed 
and  played  out  of  tune,  instead  of  touching,  as  they  do 
when  well  performed,  would  only  excite  the  indignation  of 
the  hearers,  when  murdered  by  an  unskillful  performer. 
But  to  murder  your  own  productions,  and  that  coram  populo^ 
is  a  MKDEAN  CRUELTY,  which  Horace  absolutely  forbids. 
Remember  of  what  importance  Demosthenes,  and  one  of 
the  Gracchi,  thought  ENUNCIATION  ;  and  read  what  stress 
Cicero  and  Quintilian  lay  upon  it ;  even  the  herb- women  at 
Athens  were  correct  judges  of  it.  Oratory,  with  all  its 
graces,  that  of  enunciation  in  particular,  is  full  as  necessary 
in  our  government  as  it  ever  was  in  Greece  or  Rome.  No 
man  can  make  a  fortune  or  a  figure  in  this  country,  with- 
out speaking,  and  speaking  well  in  public.  If  you  will 
persuade,  you  must  first  please ;  and  if  you  will  please,  you 
must  tune  your  voice  to  harmony,  you  must  articulate  every 
syllable  distinctly,  your  emphasis  and  cadences  must  be 
strongly  and  properly  marked;  and  the  whole  together 


330  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

must  be  graceful  and  engaging.  If  you  do  not  speak  in 
that  manner,  you  had  much  better  not  speak  at  all.  All 
the  learning  you  have,  or  ever  can  have,  is  not  worth  one 
groat  without  it.  It  may  be  a  comfort  and  an  amusement 
to  you  in  your  closet,  but  can  be  of  no  use  to  you  in  the 
world.  Let  me  conjure  you,  therefore,  to  make  this  your 
only  object,  till  you  have  absolutely  conquered  it,  for  that 
is  in  your  power ;  think  of  nothing  else,  read  and  speak  for 
nothing  else.  Read  aloud,  though  alone,  and  read  articulately 
and  distinctly,  as  if  you  were  reading  in  public,  and  on  the 
most  important  occasion.  Recite  pieces  of  eloquence,  de- 
claim scenes  of  tragedies  to  Mr.  Harte,  as  if  he  were  a 
numerous  audience.  If  there  is  any  particular  consonant 
which  you  have  a  difficulty  in  articulating,  as  I  think  you 
had  with  the  /?,  utter  it  millions  and  millions  of  times,  till 
you  have  uttered  it  right.  Never  speak  quick,  till  you 
have  first  learned  to  speak  well.  In  short,  lay  aside  every 
book,  and  every  thought,  that  does  not  directly  tend  to 
this  great  object,  absolutely  decisive  of  your  future  fortune 
and  figure. 

The  next  thing  necessary  in  your  destination,  is  writing 
correctly,  elegantly,  and  in  a  good  hand  too ;  in  which 
three  particulars,  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  that  you  hitherto 
fail.  Your  handwriting  is  a  very  bad  one,  and  would 
make  a  scurvy  figure  in  an  office-book  of  letters,  or  even 
in  a  lady's  pocket-book.  But  that  fault  is  easily  cured  by 
care,  since  every  man,  who  has  the  use  of  his  eyes  and  of 
his  right  hand,  can  write  whatever  hand  he  pleases.  As 
to  the  correctness  and  elegance  of  your  writing,  attention 
to  grammar  does  the  one,  and  to  the  best  authors  the 
other.  In  your  letter  to  me  of  the  2yth  June,  N.  S.,  you 
omitted  the  date  of  the  place,  so  that  I  only  conjectured 
from  the  contents  that  you  were  at  Rome. 

Thus  I  have,  with  the  truth  and  freedom  of  the  tender- 
est  affection,  told  you  all  your  defects,  at  least  all  that  I 
know  or  have  heard  of.  Thank  God,  they  are  all  very 
curable;  they  must  be  cured,  and  I  am  sure,  you  will  cure 
them.  That  once  done,  nothing  remains  for  you  to  ac- 
quire, or  for  me  to  wish  you,  but  the  turn,  the  manners, 
the  address,  and  the  GRACES,  of  the  polite  world ;  which 
experience,  observation,  and  good  company,  will  insensibly 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  331 

give  you.  Few  people  at  your  age  have  read,  seen,  and 
known,  so  much  as  you  have ;  and  consequently  few  are 
so  near  as  yourself  to  what  I  call  perfection,  by  which  I 
only  mean  being  very  near  as  well  as  the  best.  Far, 
therefore,  from  being  discouraged  by  what  you  still  wantt 
what  you  already  have  should  encourage  you  to  attempt, 
and  convince  you  that  by  attempting  you  will  inevitably 
obtain  it.  The  difficulties  which  you  have  surmounted 
were  much  greater  than  any  you  have  now  to  encounter. 
Till  very  lately,  your  way  has  been  only  through  thorns 
and  briars;  the  few  that  now  remain  are  mixed  with 
roses.  Pleasure  is  now  the  principal  remaining  part  of 
your  education.  It  will  soften  and  polish  your  manners; 
it  will  make  you  pursue  and  at  last  overtake  the  GRACES. 
Pleasure  is  necessarily  reciprocal ;  no  one  feels,  who  does 
not  at  the  same  time  give  it.  To  be  pleased  one  must 
please.  What  pleases  you  in  others,  will  in  general  please 
them  in  you.  Paris  is  indisputably  the  seat  of  the 
GRACES  ;  they  will  even  court  you,  if  you  are  not  too  coy. 
Frequent  and  observe  the  best  companies  there,  and  you 
will  soon  be  naturalized  among  them ;  you  will  soon  find 
how  particularly  attentive  they  are  to  the  correctness  and 
elegance  of  their  language,  and  to  the  graces  of  their 
enunciation  :  they  would  even  call  the  understanding  of  a 
man  in  question,  who  should  neglect  or  not  know  the  in- 
finite advantages  arising  from  them.  Narrer,  reciter, 
dtclamer  bien,  are  serious  studies  among  them,  and  well 
deserve  to  be  so  everywhere.  The  conversations,  even 
among  the  women,  frequently  turn  upon  the  elegancies 
and  minutest  delicacies  of  the  French  language.  An  enjoue- 
ment)  a  gallant  turn,  prevails  in  all  their  companies,  to 
women,  with  whom  they  neither  are,  nor  pretend  to  be, 
in  love;  but  should  you  (as  may  very  possibly  happen) 
fall  really  in  love  there  with  some  woman  of  fashion  and 
sense  (for  I  do  not  suppose  you  capable  of  falling  in  love 
with  a  strumpet),  and  that  your  rival,  without  half  your 
parts  or  knowledge,  should  get  the  better  of  you,  merely 
by  dint  of  manners,  enjouement,  badinage,  etc.,  how  would 
you  regret  not  having  sufficiently  attended  to  those  ac- 
complishments which  you  despised  as  superficial  and 
trifling,  but  which  you  would  then  find  of  real  conse- 


332  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

quence  in  the  course  of  the  world!  And  men,  as  well  as 
women,  are  taken  by  those  external  graces.  Shut  up  your 
books,  then,  now  as  a  business,  and  open  them  only  as  a 
pleasure ;  but  let  the  great  book  of  the  world  be  your 
serious  study ;  read  it  over  and  over,  get  it  by  heart, 
adopt  its  style,  and  make  it  your  own. 

When  I  cast  up  your  account  as  it  now  stands,  I  rejoice 
to  see  the  balance  so  much  in  your  favor;  and  that  the 
items  per  contra  are  so  few,  and  of  such  a  nature,  that 
they  may  be  very  easily  cancelled.  By  way  of  debtor  and 
creditor,  it  stands  thus:  — 

Creditor.  By  French  Debtor.  To  English 

German  Enunciation 

Italian  Manners 

Latin 
Greek 
Logic 
Ethics 
History 
(  Naturae 
Tus    <  Gentium 

«/ 

(  Publicum 

This,  my  dear  friend,  is  a  very  true  account,  and  a  very 
encouraging  one  for  you.  A  man  who  owes  so  little  can 
clear  it  off  in  a  very  little  time,  and,  if  he  is  a  prudent 
man,  will ;  whereas  a  man  who,  by  long  negligence,  owes 
a  great  deal,  despairs  of  ever  being  able  to  pay ;  and 
therefore  never  looks  into  his  account  at  all. 

When  you  go  to  Genoa,  pray  observe  carefully  all  the 
environs  of  it,  and  view  them  with  somebody  who  can 
tell  you  all  the  situations  and  operations  of  the  Austrian 
army,  during  that  famous  siege,  if  it  deserves  to  be  called 
one ;  for  in  reality  the  town  never  was  besieged,  nor  had 
the  Austrians  any  one  thing  necessary  for  a  siege.  If 
Marquis  Centurioni,  who  was  last  winter  in  England, 
should  happen  to  be  there,  go  to  him  with  my  compli- 
ments, and  he  will  show  you  all  imaginable  civilities. 

I  could  have  sent  you  some  letters  to  Florence,  but  that 
I  knew  Mr.  Mann  would  be  of  more  use  to  you  than  all 
of  them.  Pray  make  him  my  compliments.  Cultivate  your 
Italian,  while  you  are  at  Florence,  where  it  is  spoken  in 
its  utmost  purity,  but  ill  pronounced. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  333 

Pray  save  me  the  seed  of  some  of  the  best  melons  you 
eat,  and  put  it  up  dry  in  paper.  You  need  not  send  it 
me ;  but  Mr.  Harte  will  bring  it  in  his  pocket  when  he 
comes  over.  I  should  likewise  be  glad  of  some  cuttings  of 
the  best  figs,  especially  la  Jica  gentile  and  the  Maltese ; 
but  as  this  is  not  the  season  for  them,  Mr.  Mann  will,  I 
dare  say,  undertake  that  commission,  and  send  them  to  me 
at  the  proper  time  by  Leghorn.  Adieu.  Endeavor  to  please 
others,  and  divert  yourself  as  much  as  ever  you  can,  en 
honndte  et  galant  homme. 

P.  S.  I  send  you  the  inclosed  to  deliver  to  Lord  Roch- 
ford,  upon  your  arrival  at  Turin. 


.  LETTER    CXVIII. 

LONDON,  August  6,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  Since  your  letter  from  Sienna, 
which  gave  me  a  very  imperfect  account  both  of  your 
illness  and  your  recovery,  I  have  not  received  one 
word  either  from  you  or  Mr.  Harte.  I  impute  this  to  the 
carelessness  of  the  post  simply  :  and  the  great  distance  be- 
tween us  at  present  exposes  our  letters  to  those  accidents. 
But  when  you  come  to  Paris,  from  whence  the  letters  ar- 
rive here  very  regularly,  I  shall  insist  upon  you  writing  to 
me  constantly  once  a-week  ;  and  that  upon  the  same  day, 
for  instance,  every  Thursday,  that  I  may  know  by  what 
mail  to  expect  your  letter.  I  shall  also  require  you  to  be 
more  minute  in  your  account  of  yourself  than  you  have 
hitherto  been,  or  than  I  have  required,  because  of  the  in- 
formations which  I  receive  from  time  to  time  from  Mr. 
Harte.  At  Paris  you  will  be  out  of  your  time,  and  must  set 
up  for  yourself;  it  is  then  that  I  shall  be  very  solicitous  to 
know  how  you  carry  on  your  business.  While  Mr.  Harte 
was  your  partner,  the  care  was  his  share,  and  the  profit 
yours.  But  at  Paris,  if  you  will  have  the  latter,  you  must 
take  the  former  along  with  it.  It  will  be  quite  a  new 
world  to  you  ;  very  different  from  the  little  world  that  you 
have  hitherto  seen  ;  and  you  will  have  much  more  to  do  in 


334  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

it.  You  must  keep  your  little  accounts  constantly  every 
morning,  if  you  would  not  have  them  run  into  confusion, 
and  swell  to  a  bulk  that  would  frighten  you  from  ever 
looking  into  them  at  all.  You  must  allow  some  time  for 
learning  what  you  do  not  know,  and  some  for  keeping 
what  you  do  know ;  and  you  must  leave  a  great  deal  of 
time  for  your  pleasures  ;  which  (I  repeat  it  again)  are  now 
become  the  most  necessary  part  of  your  education.  It  is  by 
conversations,  dinners,  suppers,  entertainments,  etc.,  in  the 
best  companies,  that  you  must  be  formed  for  the  world. 
Les  manibres  les  agrtmens,  les  graces  cannot  be  learned  by 
theory ;  they  are  only  to  be  got  by  use  among  those  who 
have  them ;  and  they  are  now  the  main  object  of  your  life, 
as  they  are  the  necessary  steps  to  your  fortune.  A  man  of 
the  best  parts,  and  the  greatest  learning,  if  he  does  not 
know  the  world  by  his  own  experience  and  observation, 
will  be  very  absurd;  and  consequently  very  unwelcome  in 
company.  He  may  say  very  good  things ;  but  they  will 
probably  be  so  ill-timed,  misplaced,  or  improperly  addressed, 
that  he  had  much  better  hold  his  tongue.  Full  of  his  own 
matter,  and  uninformed  of,  or  inattentive  to,  the  particular 
circumstances  and  situations  of  the  company,  he  vents  it 
indiscriminately  ;  he  puts  some  people  out  of  countenance ; 
he  shocks  others  ;  and  frightens  all,  who  dread  what  may 
come  out  next.  The  most  general  rule  that  I  can  give  you 
for  the  world,  and  which  your  experience  will  convince 
you  of  the  truth  of,  is,  Never  to  give  the  tone  to  the  com- 
pany, but  to  take  it  from  them  ;  and  to  labor  more  to  put 
them  in  conceit  with  themselves,  than  to  make  them  admire 
you.  Those  whom  you  can  make  like  themselves  better, 
will,  I  promise  you,  like  you  very  well. 

A  system-monger,  who,  without  knowing  anything  of  the 
world  by  experience,  has  formed  a  system  of  it  in  his  dusty 
cell,  lays  it  down,  for  example,  that  (from  the  general  na- 
ture of  mankind)  flattery  is  pleasing.  He  will  therefore 
flatter.  But  how?  Why,  indiscriminately.  And  instead 
of  repairing  and  heightening  the  piece  judiciously,  with 
soft  colors  and  a  delicate  pencil, —  with  a  coarse  brush 
and  a  great  deal  of  whitewash,  he  daubs  and  besmears 
the  piece  he  means  to  adorn.  His  flattery  offends  even  his 
patron  ;  and  is  almost  too  gross  for  his  mistress.  A  man 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  335 

of  the  world  knows  the  force  of  flattery  as  well  as  he  does ; 
but  then  he  knows  how,  when,  and  where  to  give  it ;  he 
proportions  his  dose  to  the  constitution  of  the  patient.  He 
flatters  by  application,  by  inference,  by  comparison,  by 
hint,  and  seldom  directly.  In  the  course  of  the  world, 
there  is  the  same  difference  in  everything  between  system 
and  practice. 

I  long  to  have  you  at  Paris,  which  is  to  be  your  great 
school ;  you  will  be  then  in  a  manner  within  reach  of  me. 

Tell  me,  are  you  perfectly  recovered,  or  do  you  still  find 
any  remaining  complaint  upon  your  lungs?  Your  diet 
should  be  cooling,  and  at  the  same  time  nourishing.  Milks 
of  all  kinds  are  proper  for  you  ;  wines  of  all  kinds  bad. 
A  great  deal  of  gentle,  and  no  violent  exercise,  is  good  for 
you.  Adieu.  Gratia^fama,  et  valetudo,  contingat,  abunde! 


LETTER   CXIX 

LONDON,  October  22,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DBAR  FRIEND  :  This  letter  will,  I  am  persuaded, 
find  you,  and  I  hope  safely,  arrived  at  Montpelier  ; 
from  whence  I  trust  that  Mr.  Harte's  indisposition 
will,  by  being  totally  removed,  allow  you  to  get  to  Paris 
before  Christmas.  You  will  there  find  two  people  who, 
though  both  English,  I  recommend  in  the  strongest  manner 
possible  to  your  attention  ;  and  advise  you  to  form  the 
most  intimate  connections  with  them  both,  in  their  differ- 
ent ways.  The  one  is  a  man  whom  you  already  know 
something  of,  but  not  near  enough  :  it  is  the  Earl  of  Hunt- 
ingdon ;  who,  next  to  you,  is  the  truest  object  of  my  affec- 
tion and  esteem  ;  and  who  (I  am  proud  to  say  it)  calls  me, 
and  considers  me  as  his  adopted  father.  His  parts  are  as 
quick  as  his  knowledge  is  extensive  ;  and  if  quality  were 
worth  putting  into  an  account,  where  every  other  item  is  so 
much  more  valuable,  he  is  the  first  almost  in  this  country  : 
the  figure  he  will  make  in  it,  soon  after  he  returns  to  it, 
will,  if  I  am  not  more  mistaken  than  ever  I  was  in  my 
life,  equal  his  birth  and  my  hopes.  Such  a  connection 
will  be  of  infinite  advantage  to  you  ;  and,  I  can  assure 


336  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

you,  that  he  is  extremely  disposed  to  form  it  upon  my 
account ;  and  will,  I  hope  and  believe,  desire  to  improve 
and  cement  it  upon  your  own. 

In  our  parliamentary  government,  connections  are  ab- 
solutely necessary;  and,  if  prudently  formed  and  ably  main- 
tained, the  success  of  them  is  infallible.  There  are  two 
sorts  of  connections,  which  I  would  always  advise  you  to 
have  in  view.  The  first  I  will  call  equal  ones;  by  which 
I  mean  those,  where  the  two  connecting  parties  reciprocally 
find  their  account,  from  pretty  near  an  equal  degree  of 
parts  and  abilities.  In  those,  there  must  be  a  freer  com- 
munication ;  each  must  see  that  the  other  is  able,  and  be 
convinced  that  he  is  willing  to  be  of  use  to  him.  Honor 
must  be  the  principle  of  such  connections;  and  there  must 
be  a  mutual  dependence,  that  present  and  separate  interest 
shall  not  be  able  to  break  them.  There  must  be  a  joint 
system  of  action ;  and,  in  case  of  different  opinions,  each 
must  recede  a  little,  in  order  at  last  to  form  an  unanimous 
one.  Such,  I  hope,  will  be  your  connection  with  Lord 
Huntingdon.  You  will  both  come  into  parliament  at  the 
same  time ;  and  if  you  have  an  equal  share  of  abilities  and 
application,  you  and  he,  with  other  young  people,  with 
whom  you  will  naturally  associate,  may  form  a  band  which 
will  be  respected  by  any  administration,  and  make  a 
figure  in  the  public.  The  other  sort  of  connections  I  call 
unequal  ones ;  that  is,  where  the  parts  are  all  on  one  side, 
and  the  rank  and  fortune  on  the  other.  Here,  the  ad- 
vantage is  all  on  one  side ;  but  that  advantage  must  be 
ably  and  artfully  concealed.  Complaisance,  an  engaging 
manner,  and  a  patient  toleration  of  certain  airs  of  superior- 
ity, must  cement  them.  The  weaker  party  must  be  taken 
by  the  heart,  his  head  giving  no  hold ;  and  he  must  be 
governed  by  being  made  to  believe  that  he  governs. 
These  people,  skillfully  led,  give  great  weight  to  their 
leader.  I  have  formerly  pointed  out  to  you  a  couple  that 
I  take  to  be  proper  objects  for  your  skill ;  and  you  will 
meet  with  twenty  more,  for  they  are  very  rife. 

The  other  person  whom  I  recommended  to  you  is  a 
woman  ;  not  as  a  woman,  for  that  is  not  immediately  my 
business;  besides,  I  fear  that  she  is  turned  of  fifty.  It  is 
Lady  Hervey,  whom  I  directed  you  to  call  upon  at  Dijon, 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  337 

but  who,  to  my  great  joy,  because  to  your  great  ad- 
vantage, passes  all  this  winter  at  Paris.  She  has  been 
bred  all  her  life  at  courts;  of  which  she  has  acquired  all 
the  easy  good-breeding  and  politeness,  without  the  frivolous- 
ness.  She  has  all  the  reading  that  a  woman  should  have ; 
and  more  than  any  woman  need  have ;  for  she  understands 
Latin  perfectly  well,  though  she  wisely  conceals  it.  As 
she  will  look  upon  you  as  her  son,  I  desire  that  you  will 
look  upon  her  as  my  delegate:  trust,  consult,  and  apply  to 
her  without  reserve.  No  woman  ever  had  more  than  she 
has,  le  ton  de  la  parfaitement  bonne  compagnie,  les  manures 
engageantes ,  et  le  je  ne  sais  quoi  qui  plait.  Desire  her  to 
reprove  and  correct  any,  and  every,  the  least  error  and  in- 
accuracy in  your  manners,  air,  address,  etc.  No  woman 
in  Europe  can  do  it  so  well ;  none  will  do  it  more  willingly, 
or  in  a  more  proper  and  obliging  manner.  In  such  a 
case  she  will  not  put  you  out  of  countenance,  by  telling 
you  of  it  in  company;  but  either  intimate  it  by  some  sign, 
or  wait  for  an  opportunity  when  you  are  alone  together. 
She  is  also  in  the  best  French  company,  where  she  will 
not  only  introduce  but  PUFF  you,  if  I  may  use  so  low  a 
word.  And  I  can  assure  you  that  it  is  no  little  help,  in 
the  beau  monde,  to  be  puffed  there  by  a  fashionable 
woman.  I  send  you  the  inclosed  billet  to  carry  her,  only 
as  a  certificate  of  the  identity  of  your  person,  which  I  take 
it  for  granted  she  could  not  know  again. 

You  would  be  so  much  surprised  to  receive  a  whole 
letter  from  me  without  any  mention  of  the  exterior  orna- 
ments necessary  for  a  gentleman,  as  manners,  elocution, 
air,  address,  graces,  etc.,  that,  to  comply  with  your  expecta- 
tions, I  will  touch  upon  them;  and  tell  you,  that  when 
you  come  to  England,  I  will  show  you  some  people,  whom 
I  do  not  now  care  to  name,  raised  to  the  highest  stations 
singly  by  those  exterior  and  adventitious  ornaments,  whose 
parts  would  never  have  entitled  them  to  the  smallest  office 
in  the  excise.  Are  they  then  necessary,  and  worth  ac- 
quiring, or  not?  You  will  see  many  instances  of  this 
kind  at  Paris,  particularly  a  glaring  one,  of  a  person* 
raised  to  the  highest  posts  and  dignities  in  France,  as  well  as 
to  be  absolute  sovereign  of  the  beau  monde,  simply  by  the 

«M.  le  Marshal  de  Richelieu. 


338  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

graces  of  his  person  and  address ;  by  woman's  chit-chat, 
accompanied  with  important  gestures ;  by  an  imposing 
air  and  pleasing  abord.  Nay,  by  these  helps,  he  even 
passes  for  a  wit,  though  he  hath  certainly  no  uncommon 
share  of  it.  I  will  not  name  him,  because  it  would  be 
very  imprudent  in  you  to  do  it.  A  young  fellow,  at  his 
first  entrance  into  the  beau  monde,  must  not  offend  the 
king  de  facto  there.  It  is  very  often  more  necessary  to 
conceal  contempt  than  resentment,  the  former  being  never 
forgiven,  but  the  latter  sometimes  forgot. 

There  is  a  small  quarto  book  entitled,  Histoire  Chrono- 
logique  de  la  France,  lately  published  by  Le  President 
Renault,  a  man  of  parts  and  learning,  with  whom  you  will 
probably  get  acquainted  at  Paris.  I  desire  that  it  may  always 
lie  upon  your  table,  for  your  recourse  as  often  as  you  read 
history.  The  chronology,  though  chiefly  relative  to  the 
history  of  France,  is  not  singly  confined  to  it ;  but  the 
most  interesting  events  of  all  the  rest  of  Europe  are  also 
inserted,  and  many  of  them  adorned  by  short,  pretty,  and 
just  reflections.  The  new  edition  of  Les  Mdmoires  de 
Sully,  in  three  quarto  volumes,  is  also  extremely  well 
worth  your  reading,  as  it  will  give  you  a  clearer  and 
truer  notion  of  one  of  the  most  interesting  periods  of  the 
French  history,  than  you  can  yet  have  formed  from  all  the 
other  books  you  may  have  read  upon  the  subject.  That 
prince,  I  mean  Henry  the  Fourth,  had  all  the  accomplish- 
ments and  virtues  of  a  hero,  and  of  a  king,  and  almost  of 
a  man.  The  last  are  the  most  rarely  seen.  May  you  pos- 
sess them  all!  Adieu. 

Pray  make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Harte,  and  let  him 
know  that  I  have  this  moment  received  his  letter  of 
the  1 2th,  N.  S.,  from  Antibes.  It  requires  no  immediate 
answer ;  I  shall  therefore  delay  mine  till  I  have  another 
from  him.  Give  him  the  inclosed,  which  I  have  received 
from  Mr.  Eliot. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  339 


LETTER    CXX 

LONDON,  November  i,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :     I  hope  that  this  letter  will  not  find 
you  still  at  Montpelier,  but  rather  be  sent  after  you 
from   thence  to    Paris,  where,  I    am  persuaded,  that 
Mr.  Harte  could  find  as  good  advice  for  his  leg  as  at  Mont- 
pelier, if  not  better;  but    if    he  is  of  a  different  opinion,  I 
am  sure  you   ought  to  stay  there  as  long  as  he  desires. 

While  you  are  in  France,  I  could  wish  that  the  hours 
you  allot  for  historical  amusement  should  be  entirely  de- 
voted to  the  history  of  France.  One  always  reads  history 
to  most  advantage  in  that  country  to  which  it  is  relative ; 
not  only  books,  but  persons  being  ever  at  hand  to  solve 
doubts  and  clear  up  difficulties.  I  do  by  no  means  advise 
you  to  throw  away  your  time  in  ransacking,  like  a  dull  an- 
tiquarian, the  minute  and  unimportant  parts  of  remote  and 
fabulous  times.  Let  blockheads  read  what  blockheads  wrote. 
And  a  general  notion  of  the  history  of  France,  from  the 
conquest  of  that  country  by  the  Franks,  to  the  reign  of 
Louis  the  Eleventh,  is  sufficient  for  use,  consequently  suffi- 
cient for  you.  There  are,  however,  in  those  remote  times, 
some  remarkable  eras  that  deserve  more  particular  atten- 
tion; I  mean  those  in  which  some  notable  alterations  hap- 
pened in  the  constitution  and  form  of  government.  As,  for 
example,  in  the  settlement  of  Clovis  in  Gaul,  and  the  form 
of  government  which  he  then  established;  for,  by  the  way, 
that  form  of  government  differed  in  this  particular  from  all 
the  other  Gothic  governments,  that  the  people,  neither  col- 
lectively nor  by  representatives,  had  any  share  in  it.  It 
was  a  mixture  of  monarchy  and  aristocracy  :  and  what  were 
called  the  States  General  of  France  consisted  only  of  the 
nobility  and  clergy  till  the  time  of  Philip  le  Bel,  in  the  very 
beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century,  who  first  called  the 
people  to  those  assemblies,  by  no  means  for  the  good  of  the 
people,  who  were  only  amused  by  this  pretended  honor, 
but,  in  truth,  to  check  the  nobility  and  clergy,  and  induce 
them  to  grant  the  money  he  wanted  for  his  profusion  ;  this 
was  a  scheme  of  Enguerrand  de  Marigny,  his  minister,  who 


340  LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S 

governed  both  him  and  his  kingdom  to  such  a  degree  as  to 
be  called  the  coadjutor  and  governor  of  the  kingdom.  Charles 
Martel  laid  aside  these  assemblies,  and  governed  by  open  force. 
Pepin  restored  them,  and  attached  them  to  him,  and  with 
them  the  nation  ;  by  which  means  he  deposed  Childeric  and 
mounted  the  throne.  This  is  a  second  period  worth  your 
attention.  The  third  race  of  kings,  which  begins  with 
Hugues  Capet,  is  a  third  period.  A  judicious  reader  of 
history  will  save  himself  a  great  deal  of  time  and  trouble 
by  attending  with  care  only  to  those  interesting  periods  of 
history  which  furnish  remarkable  events,  and  make  eras, 
and  going  slightly  over  the  common  run  of  events.  Some 
people  read  history  as  others  read  the  <(  Pilgrim's  Progress*; 
giving  equal  attention  to,  and  indiscriminately  loading  their 
memories  with  every  part  alike.  But  I  would  have  you  read 
it  in  a  different  manner;  take  the  shortest  general  history 
you  can  find  of  every  country;  and  mark  down  in  that  his- 
tory the  most  important  periods,  such  as  conquests,  changes 
of  kings,  and  alterations  of  the  form  of  government ; 
and  then  have  recourse  to  more  extensive  histories  or  par- 
ticular treatises,  relative  to  those  great  points.  Consider 
them  well,  trace  up  their  causes,  and  follow  their  conse- 
quences. For  instance,  there  is  a  most  excellent,  though 
very  short  history  of  France,  by  Le  Gendre.  Read  that 
with  attention,  and  you  will  know  enough  of  the  general 
history ;  but  when  you  find  there  such  remarkable  periods 
as  are  above  mentioned,  consult  Mezeray,  and  other  of  the 
best  and  minutest  historians,  as  well  as  political  treatises 
upon  those  subjects.  In  later  times,  memoirs,  from  those 
of  Philip  de  Commines,  down  to  the  innumerble  ones  in 
the  reign  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  have  been  of  great  use, 
and  thrown  great  light  upon  particular  parts  of  history. 

Conversation  in  France,  if  you  have  the  address  and  dex- 
terity to  turn  it  upon  useful  subjects,  will  exceedingly  im- 
prove your  historical  knowledge ;  for  people  there,  however 
classically  ignorant  they  may  be,  think  it  a  shame  to  be  ig- 
norant of  the  history  of  their  own  country :  they  read 
that,  if  they  read  nothing  else,  and  having  often  read  noth- 
ing else,  are  proud  of  having  read  that,  and  talk  of  it  will- 
ingly; even  the  women  are  well  instructed  in  that  sort  of 
reading.  I  am  far  from  meaning  by  this  that  you  should 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  341 

always  be  talking  wisely  in  company,  of  books,  history, 
and  matters  of  knowledge.  There  are  many  companies 
which  you  will,  and  ought  to  keep,  where  such  conversa- 
tions would  be  misplaced  and  ill-timed;  your  own  good 
sense  must  distinguish  the  company  and  the  time.  You 
must  trifle  only  with  triflers;  and  be  serious  only  with 
the  serious,  but  dance  to  those  who  pipe.  Cur  in  theat- 
rum  Cato  severb  venisti  ?  was  justly  said  to  an  old  man : 
how  much  more  so  would  it  be  to  one  of  your  age? 
From  the  moment  that  you  are  dressed  and  go  out,  pocket 
all  your  knowledge  with  your  watch,  and  never  pull  it  out 
in  company  unless  desired:  the  producing  of  the  one  unasked, 
implies  that  you  are  weary  of  the  company ;  and  the  pro- 
ducing of  the  other  unrequired,  will  make  the  company 
weary  of  you.  Company  is  a  republic  too  jealous  of  its 
liberties,  to  suffer  a  dictator  even  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour; 
and  yet  in  that,  as  in  republics,  there  are  some  few  who 
really  govern ;  but  then  it  is  by  seeming  to  disclaim,  in- 
stead of  attempting  to  usurp  the  power;  that  is  the  occa- 
sion in  which  manners,  dexterity,  address,  and  the  un- 
definable  je  ne  sais  quoi  triumph;  if  properly  exerted,  their 
conquest  is  sure,  and  the  more  lasting  for  not  being  per- 
ceived. Remember,  that  this  is  not  only  your  first  and 
greatest,  but  ought  to  be  almost  your  only  object,  while  you 
are  in  France. 

I  know  that  many  of  your  countrymen  are  apt  to  call  the 
freedom  and  vivacity  of  the  French  petulancy  and  ill- 
breeding  ;  but,  should  you  think  so,  I  desire  upon  many  ac- 
counts that  you  will  not  say  so;  I  admit  that  it  may  be  so  in 
some  instances  of  petits  maitres  Jtourdts,  and  in  some  young 
people  unbroken  to  the  world ;  but  I  can  assure  you,  that 
you  will  find  it  much  otherwise  with  people  of  a  certain 
rank  and  age,  upon  whose  model  you  will  do  very  well  to 
form  yourself.  We  call  their  steady  assurance,  impudence  : 
why?  Only  because  what  we  call  modesty  is  awkward 
bashfulness  and  mauvaise  honte.  For  my  part,  I  see  no  im- 
pudence, but,  on  the  contrary,  infinite  utility  and  advan- 
tage in  presenting  one's  self  with  the  same  coolness  and 
unconcern  in  any  and  every  company.  Till  one  can  do  that, 
I  am  very  sure  that  one  can  never  present  one's  self  well. 
Whatever  is  done  under  concern  and  embarrassment,  must 


342  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

be  ill  done,  and,  till  a  man  is  absolutely  easy  and  uncon- 
cerned in  every  company,  he  will  never  be  thought  to  have 
kept  good  company,  nor  be  very  welcome  in  it.  A  steady 
assurance,  with  seeming  modesty,  is  possibly  the  most  use- 
ful qualification  that  a  man  can  have  in  every  part  of  life. 
A  man  would  certainly  make  a  very  considerable  fortune 
and  figure  in  the  world,  whose  modesty  and  timidity  should 
often,  as  bashfulness  always  does  (put  him  in  the  deplor- 
able and  lamentable  situation  of  the  pious  ^Eneas,  when 
obstupuit,  steteruntque  comce;  et  vox  faucibus  hcesitf).  For- 
tune (as  well  as  women)  — 

<( born  to  be  controlled, 

Stoops  to  the  forward  and  the  bold.** 

Assurance  and  intrepidity,  under  the  white  banner  of 
seeming  modesty,  clear  the  way  for  merit,  that  would  other- 
wise be  discouraged  by  difficulties  in  its  journey ;  whereas 
barefaced  impudence  is  the  noisy  and  blustering  harbinger 
of  a  worthless  and  senseless  usurper. 

You  will  think  that  I  shall  never  have  done  recommending 
to  you  these  exterior  worldly  accomplishments,  and  you  will 
think  right,  for  I  never  shall ;  they  are  of  too  great  conse- 
quence to  you  for  me  to  be  indifferent  or  negligent  about 
them :  the  shining  part  of  your  future  figure  and  fortune 
depends  now  wholly  upon  them.  These  are  the  acquisitions 
which  must  give  efficacy  and  success  to  those  you  have 
already  made.  To  have  it  said  and  believed  that  you  are 
the  most  learned  man  in  England,  would  be  no  more  than 
was  said  and  believed  of  Dr.  Bentley;  but  to  have  it  said, 
at  the  same  time,  that  you  are  also  the  best-bred,  most 
polite,  and  agreeable  man  in  the  kingdom,  would  be  such 
a  happy  composition  of  a  character  as  I  never  yet  knew 
any  one  man  deserve ;  and  which  I  will  endeavor,  as  well 
as  ardently  wish,  that  you  may.  Absolute  perfection  is,  I 
well  know,  unattainable ;  but  I  know  too,  that  a  man  of 
parts  may  be  unweariedly  aiming  at  it,  and  arrive  pretty 
near  it.  Try,  labor,  persevere.  Adieu. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  343 


LETTER     CXXI 

LONDON,  November  8,  O.  S.   1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  Before  you  get  to  Paris,  where  you 
will  soon  be  left  to  your  own  discretion,  if  you 
have  any,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  understand 
one  another  thoroughly ;  which  is  the  most  probable  way  of 
preventing  disputes.  Money,  the  cause  of  much  mischief  in 
the  world,  is  the  cause  of  most  quarrels  between  fathers 
and  sons ;  the  former  commonly  thinking  that  they  cannot 
give  too  little,  and  the  latter,  that  they  cannot  have  enough ; 
both  equally  in  the  wrong.  You  must  do  me  the  justice 
to  acknowledge,  that  I  have  hitherto  neither  stinted  nor 
grudged  any  expense  that  could  be  of  use  or  real  pleasure 
to  you;  and  I  can  assure  you,  by  the  way,  that  you  have 
traveled  at  a  much  more  considerable  expense  than  I  did 
myself;  but  I  never  so  much  as  thought  of  that,  while  Mr. 
Harte  was  at  the  head  of  your  finances ;  being  very  sure 
that  the  sums  granted  were  scrupulously  applied  to  the  uses 
for  which  they  were  intended.  But  the  case  will  soon  be 
altered,  and  you  will  be  your  own  receiver  and  treasurer. 
However,  I  promise  you,  that  we  will  not  quarrel  singly 
upon  the  quantum,  which  shall  be  cheerfully  and  freely 
granted :  the  application  and  appropriation  of  it  will  be 
the  material  point,  which  I  am  now  going  to  clear  up  and 
finally  settle  with  you.  I  will  fix,  or  even  name,  no  settled 
allowance ;  though  I  well  know  in  my  own  mind  what 
would  be  the  proper  one ;  but  I  will  first  try  your  draughts, 
by  which  I  can  in  a  good  degree  judge  of  your  conduct. 
This  only  I  tell  you  in  general,  that  if  the  channels  through 
which  my  money  is  to  go  are  the  proper  ones,  the  source 
shall  not  be  scanty;  but  should  it  deviate  into  dirty, 
muddy,  and  obscure  ones  (which  by  the  bye,  it  cannot  do 
for  a  week  without  my  knowing  it),  I  give  you  fair  and 
timely  notice,  that  the  source  will  instantly  be  dry.  Mr. 
Harte,  in  establishing  you  at  Paris,  will  point  out  to  you 
those  proper  channels ;  he  will  leave  you  there  upon  the 
foot  of  a  man  of  fashion,  and  I  will  continue  you  upon 
the  same;  you  will  have  your  coach,  your  valet  de  chambre. 


344  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

your  own  footman,  and  a  valet  de  -place;  which,  by  the 
way,  is  one  servant  more  than  I  had.  I  would  have  you 
very  well  dressed,  by  which  I  mean  dressed  as  the  generality 
of  people  of  fashion  are ;  that  is,  not  to  be  taken  notice  of, 
for  being  either  more  or  less  fine  than  other  people:  it  is 
by  being  well  dressed,  not  finely  dressed,  that  a  gentleman 
should  be  distinguished.  You  must  frequent  les  spectacles, 
which  expense  I  shall  willingly  supply.  You  must  play  d 
des  petits  jeux  de  commerce  in  mixed  companies;  that 
article  is  trifling;  I  shall  pay  it  cheerfully.  All  the  other 
articles  of  pocket-money  are  very  inconsiderable  at  Paris, 
in  comparison  of  what  they  are  here,  the  silly  custom  of 
giving  money  wherever  one  dines  or  sups,  and  the  expensive 
importunity  of  subscriptions,  not  being  yet  introduced  there. 
Having  thus  reckoned  up  all  the  decent  expenses  of  a  gen- 
tleman, which  I  will  most  readily  defray,  I  come  now  to 
those  which  I  will  neither  bear  nor  supply.  The  first  of 
these  is  gaming,  of  which,  though  I  have  not  the  least 
reason  to  suspect  you,  I  think  it  necessary  eventually  to 
assure  you,  that  no  consideration  in  the  world  shall  ever 
make  me  pay  your  play  debts;  should  you  ever  urge  to  me 
that  your  honor  is  pawned,  I  should  most  immovably 
answer  you,  that  it  was  your  honor,  not  mine,  that  was 
pawned;  and  that  your  creditor  might  e'en  take  the  pawn 
for  the  debt. 

Low  company,  and  low  pleasures,  are  always  much  more 
costly  than  liberal  and  elegant  ones.  The  disgraceful  riots 
of  a  tavern  are  much  more  expensive,  as  well  as  dishon- 
orable, than  the  sometimes  pardonable  excesses  in  good 
company.  I  must  absolutely  hear  of  no  tavern  scrapes  and 
squabbles. 

I  come  now  to  another  and  very  material  point ;  I 
mean  women;  and  I  will  not  address  myself  to  you  upon 
this  subject,  either  in  a  religious,  a  moral,  or  a  parental 
style.  I  will  even  lay  aside  my  age,  remember  yours,  and 
speak  to  you  as  one  man  of  pleasure,  if  he  had  parts  too, 
would  speak  to  another.  I  will  by  no  means  pay  for 
whores,  and  their  never-failing  consequences,  surgeons ;  nor 
will  I,  upon  any  account,  keep  singers,  dancers,  actresses, 
and  id  genus  omne ;  and,  independently  of  the  expense,  I 
must  tell  you,  that  such  connections  would  give  me,  and  all 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  345 

sensible  people,  the  utmost  contempt  for  your  parts  and 
address;  a  young  fellow  must  have  as  little  sense  as  address, 
to  venture,  or  more  properly  to  sacrifice,  his  health  and 
ruin  his  fortune,  with  such  sort  of  creatures ;  in  such  a 
place  as  Paris  especially,  where  gallantry  is  both  the  pro- 
fession and  the  practice  of  every  woman  of  fashion.  To 

speak  plainly,  I  will  not  forgive  your  understanding  c s 

and  p s ;  nor  will  your  constitution  forgive  them  you. 

These  distempers,  as  well  as  their  cures,  fall  nine  times  in 
ten  upon  the  lungs.  This  argument,  I  am  sure,  ought  to 
have  weight  with  you:  for  I  protest  to  you,  that  if  you 
meet  with  any  such  accident,  I  would  not  give  one  year's 
purchase  for  your  life.  Lastly,  there  is  another  sort  of  ex- 
pense that  I  will  not  allow,  only  because  it  is  a  silly  one ; 
I  mean  the  fooling  away  your  money  in  baubles  at  toy 
shops.  Have  one  handsome  snuff-box  (if  you  take  snuff), 
and  one  handsome  sword;  but  then  no  more  pretty  and 
very  useless  things. 

By  what  goes  before,  you  will  easily  perceive  that  I  mean 
to  allow  you  whatever  is  necessary,  not  only  for  the  figure, 
but  for  the  pleasures  of  a  gentleman,  and  not  to  supply  the 
profusion  of  a  rake.  This,  you  must  confess,  does  not  savor 
of  either  the  severity  or  parsimony  of  old  age.  I  consider 
this  agreement  between  us,  as  a  subsidiary  treaty  on  my 
part,  for  services  to  be  performed  on  yours.  I  promise  you, 
that  I  will  be  as  punctual  in  the  payment  of  the  subsidies, 
as  England  has  been  during  the  last  war;  but  then  I  give 
you  notice  at  the  same  time,  that  I  require  a  much  more 
scrupulous  execution  of  the  treaty  on  your  part,  than  we 
met  with  on  that  of  our  allies ;  or  else  that  payment  will 
be  stopped.  I  hope  all  that  I  have  now  said  was  absolutely 
unnecessary,  and  that  sentiments  more  worthy  and  more 
noble  than  pecuniary  ones,  would  of  themselves  have  pointed 
out  to  you  the  conduct  I  recommend;  but,  at  all  events,  I 
resolved  to  be  once  for  all  explicit  with  you,  that,  in  the 
worst  that  can  happen,  you  may  not  plead  ignorance,  and 
complain  that  I  had  not  sufficiently  explained  to  you  my 
intentions. 

Having  mentioned  the  word  rake,  I  must  say  a  word  or 
two  more  on  that  subject,  because  young  people  too  fre- 
quently, and  always  fatally,  are  apt  to  mistake  that  character 


346  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

for  that  of  a  man  of  pleasure;  whereas,  there  are  not  in 
the  world  two  characters  more  different.  A  rake  is  a  com- 
position of  all  the  lowest,  most  ignoble,  degrading,  and 
shameful  vices ;  they  all  conspire  to  disgrace  his  character, 
and  to  ruin  his  fortune ;  while  wine  and  the  p x  con- 
tend which  shall  soonest  and  most  effectually  destroy  his 
constitution.  A  dissolute,  flagitious  footman,  or  porter, 
makes  full  as  good  a  rake  as  a  man  of  the  first  quality. 
By  the  bye,  let  me  tell  you,  that  in  the  wildest  part  of  my 
youth,  I  never  was  a  rake,  but,  on  the  contrary,  always 
detested  and  despised  that  character. 

A  man  of  pleasure,  though  not  always  so  scrupulous  as 
he  should  be,  and  as  one  day  he  will  wish  he  had  been, 
refines  at  least  his  pleasures  by  taste,  accompanies  them  with 
decency,  and  enjoys  them  with  dignity.  Few  men  can  be 
men  of  pleasure,  every  man  may  be  a  rake.  Remember 
that  I  shall  know  everything  you  say  or  do  at  Paris,  as  ex- 
actly as  if,  by  the  force  of  magic,  I  could  follow  you  every- 
where, like  a  sylph  or  a  gnome,  invisible  myself.  Seneca 
says,  very  prettily,  that  one  should  ask  nothing  of  God,  but 
what  one  should  be  willing  that  men  should  know;  nor  of 
men,  but  what  one  should  be  willing  that  God  should  know. 
I  advise  you  to  say  and  do  nothing  at  Paris,  but  what  you 
would  be  willing  that  I  should  know.  I  hope,  nay,  I  be- 
lieve, that  will  be  the  case.  Sense,  I  dare  say,  you  do  not 
want ;  instruction,  I  am  sure,  you  have  never  wanted  :  ex- 
perience you  are  daily  gaining :  all  which  together  must 
inevitably  (I  should  think)  make  you  both  respectable  et 
aimable,  the  perfection  of  a  human  character.  In  that  case 
nothing  shall  be  wanting  on  my  part,  and  you  shall  solidly 
experience  all  the  extent  and  tenderness  of  my  affection  for 
you ;  but  dread  the  reverse  of  both  !  Adieu ! 

P.  S.  When  you  get  to  Paris,  after  you  have  been  to 
wait  on  Lord  Albemarle,  go  to  see  Mr.  Yorke,  whom  I  have 
particular  reasons  for  desiring  that  you  should  be  well  with, 
as  I  shall  hereafter  explain  to  you.  Let  him  know  that 
my  orders,  and  your  own  inclinations,  conspired  to  make 
you  desire  his  friendship  and  protection. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  347 


LETTER   CXXII 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  I  have  sent  you  so  many  pre- 
paratory letters  for  Paris,  that  this,  which  will  meet 
you  there,  shall  only  be  a  summary  of  them  all. 

You  have  hitherto  had  more  liberty  than  anybody  of 
your  age  ever  had;  and  I  must  do  you  the  justice  to  own, 
that  you  have  made  a  better  use  of  it  than  most  people  of 
your  age  would  have  done ;  but  then,  though  you  had  not 
a  jailer,  you  had  a  friend  with  you.  At  Paris,  you  will 
not  only  be  unconfined,  but  unassisted.  Your  own  good 
sense  must  be  your  only  guide  :  I  have  great  confidence  in 
it,  and  am  convinced  that  I  shall  receive  just  such  accounts 
of  your  conduct  at  Paris  as  I  could  wish;  for  I  tell  you 
beforehand,  that  I  shall  be  most  minutely  informed  of  all 
that  you  do,  and  almost  of  all  that  you  say  there.  Enjoy 
the  pleasures  of  youth,  you  cannot  do  better:  but  refine  and 
dignify  them  like  a  man  of  parts ;  let  them  raise,  and  not 
sink;  let  them  adorn  and  not  vilify  your  character;  let 
them,  in  short,  be  the  pleasures  of  a  gentleman,  and  taken 
with  your  equals  at  least,  but  rather  with  your  superiors, 
and  those  chiefly  French. 

Inquire  into  the  characters  of  the  several  Academicians, 
before  you  form  a  connection  with  any  of  them ;  and  be 
most  upon  your  guard  against  those  who  make  the  most 
court  to  you. 

You  cannot  study  much  in  the  Academy;  but  you  may 
study  usefully  there,  if  you  are  an  economist  of  your  time, 
and  bestow  only  upon  good  books  those  quarters  and  halves 
of  hours,  which  occur  to  everybody  in  the  course  of  almost 
every  day;  and  which,  at  the  year's  end,  amount  to  a  very 
considerable  sum  of  time.  Let  Greek,  without  fail,  share 
some  part  of  every  day;  I  do  not  mean  the  Greek  poets, 
the  catches  of  Anacreon,  or  the  tender  complaints  of  Theo- 
critus, or  even  the  porter-like  language  of  Homer's  heroes; 
of  whom  all  smatterers  in  Greek  know  a  little,  quote  often, 
and  talk  of  always ;  but  I  mean  Plato,  Aristoteles,  Demos- 
thenes, and  Thucydides,  whom  none  but  adepts  know.  It 
is  Greek  that  must  distinguish  you  in  the  learned  world, 


348  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

Latin  alone  will  not :  and  Greek  must  be  sought  to  be  re- 
tained, for  it  never  occurs  like  Latin.  When  you  read  his- 
tory or  other  books  of  amusement,  let  every  language  you 
are  master  of  have  its  turn,  so  that  you  may  not  only  retain, 
but  improve  in  everyone.  I  also  desire  that  you  will  con- 
verse in  German  and  Italian,  with  all  the  Germans  and  the 
Italians  with  whom  you  converse  at  all.  This  will  be  a 
very  agreeable  and  flattering  thing  to  them,  and  a  very 
useful  one  to  you. 

Pray  apply  yourself  diligently  to  your  exercises;  for 
though  the  doing  them  well  is  not  supremely  meritorious, 
the  doing  them  ill  is  illiberal,  vulgar,  and  ridiculous. 

I  recommend  theatrical  representations  to  you;  which  are 
excellent  at  Paris.  The  tragedies  of  Corneille  and  Racine, 
and  the  comedies  of  MoliSre,  well  attended  to,  are  admir- 
able lessons,  both  for  the  heart  and  the  head.  There  is  not, 
nor  ever  was,  any  theatre  comparable  to  the  French.  If 
the  music  of  the  French  operas  does  not  please  your  Italian 
ear,  the  words  of  them,  at  least,  are  sense  and  poetry, 
which  is  much  more  than  I  can  say  of  any  Italian  opera 
that  I  ever  read  or  heard  in  my  life. 

I  send  you  the  inclosed  letter  of  recommendation  to 
Marquis  Matignon,  which  I  would  have  you  deliver  to  him 
as  soon  as  you  can;  you  will,  I  am  sure,  feel  the  good 
effects  of  his  warm  friendship  for  me  and  Lord  Boling- 
broke,  who  has  also  wrote  to  him  upon  your  subject.  By 
that,  and  by  the  other  letters  which  I  have  sent  you,  you 
will  be  at  once  so  thoroughly  introduced  into  the  best 
French  company,  that  you  must  take  some  pains  if  you 
will  keep  bad ;  but  that  is  what  I  do  not  suspect  you  of. 
You  have,  I  am  sure,  too  much  right  ambition  to  prefer  low 
and  disgraceful  company  to  that  of  your  superiors,  both 
in  rank  and  age.  Your  character,  and  consequently  your 
fortune,  absolutely  depends  upon  the  company  you  keep, 
and  the  turn  you  take  at  Paris.  I  do  not  in  the  least 
mean  a  grave  turn  ;  on  the  contrary,  a  gay,  a  sprightly,  but, 
at  the  same  time,  an  elegant  and  liberal  one. 

Keep  carefully  out  of  all  scrapes  and  quarrels.  They 
lower  a  character  extremely ;  and  are  particularly  dangerous 
in  France;  where  a  man  is  dishonored  by  not  resenting  an 
affront,  and  utterly  ruined  by  resenting  it.  The  young 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  349 

Frenchmen  are  hasty,  giddy,  and  petulant ;  extremely  na- 
tional, and  avantageux.  Forbear  from  any  national  jokes 
or  reflections,  which  are  always  improper,  and  commonly 
unjust.  The  colder  northern  nations  generally  look  upon 
France  as  a  whistling,  singing,  dancing,  frivolous  nation ; 
this  notion  is  very  far  from  being  a  true  one,  though  many 
petits  maitres  by  their  behavior  seem  to  justify  it ;  but  those 
very  petits  mattres,  when  mellowed  by  age  and  experience, 
very  often  turn  out  very  able  men.  The  number  of  great 
generals  and  statesmen,  as  well  as  excellent  authors,  that 
France  has  produced,  is  an  undeniable  proof,  that  it  is  not 
that  frivolous,  unthinking,  empty  nation  that  northern  prej- 
udices suppose  it.  Seem  to  like  and  approve  of  every- 
thing at  first,  and  I  promise  you  that  you  will  like  and 
approve  of  many  things  afterward. 

I  expect  that  you  will  write  to  me  constantly,  once  every 
week,  which  I  desire  may  be  every  Thursday;  and  that 
your  letters  may  inform  me  of  your  personal  transactions: 
not  of  what  you  see,  but  of  whom  you  see,  and  what  you  do. 

Be  your  own  monitor,  now  that  you  will  have  no  other. 
As  to  enunciation,  I  must  repeat  it  to  you  again  and  again, 
that  there  is  no  one  thing  so  necessary:  all  other  talents, 
without  that,  are  absolutely  useless,  except  in  your  own 
closet. 

It  sounds  ridiculously  to  bid  you  study  with  your  dancing- 
master;  and  yet  I  do.  The  bodily  carriage  and  graces  are 
of  infinite  consequence  to  everybody,  and  more  particu- 
larly to  you. 

Adieu  for  this  time,  my  dear  child.     Yours  tenderly. 


LETTER   CXXIII 

LONDON,  November  12,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :    You  will    possibly   think,  that    this 
letter  turns  upon  strange,  little,  trifling  objects;  and 
you  will  think  right,  if  you  consider  them  separately ; 
but  if   you  take  them  aggregately,  you    will   be    convinced 
that    as    parts,  which    conspire    to    form    that  whole,  called 


350  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

the  exterior  of  a  man  of  fashion,  they  are  of  importance. 
I  shall  not  dwell  now  upon  these  personal  graces,  that 
liberal  air,  and  that  engaging  address,  which  I  have  so 
often  recommended  to  you;  but  descend  still  lower,  to  your 
dress,  cleanliness,  and  care  of  your  person. 

When  you  come  to  Paris,  you  may  take  care  to  be 
extremely  well  dressed ;  that  is,  as  the  fashionable  people 
are ;  this  does  by  no  means  consist  in  the  finery,  but  in  the 
taste,  fitness,  and  manner  of  wearing  your  clothes ;  a  fine 
suit  ill-made,  and  slatternly  or  stiffly  worn,  far  from  adorn- 
ing, only  exposes  the  awkwardness  of  the  wearer.  Get  the 
best  French  tailor  to  make  your  clothes,  whatever  they  are, 
in  the  fashion,  and  to  fit  you:  and  then  wear  them,  button 
them,  or  unbutton  them,  as  the  genteelest  people  you  see 
do.  Let  your  man  learn  of  the  best  friseur  to  do  your 
hair  well,  for  that  is  a  very  material  part  of  your  dress. 
Take  care  to  have  your  stockings  well  gartered  up,  and 
your  shoes  well  buckled ;  for  nothing  gives  a  more  slovenly 
air  to  a  man  than  ill-dressed  legs.  In  your  person  you  must 
be  accurately  clean;  and  your  teeth,  hands,  and  nails,  should 
be  superlatively  so  ;  a  dirty  mouth  has  real  ill  consequences 
to  the  owner,  for  it  infallibly  causes  the  decay,  as  well  as 
the  intolerable  pain  of  the  teeth,  and  it  is  very  offensive  to 
his  acquaintance,  for  it  will  most  inevitably  stink.  I  insist, 
therefore,  that  you  wash  your  teeth  the  first  thing  you  do 
every  morning,  with  a  soft  sponge  and  warm  water,  for 
four  or  five  minutes ;  and  then  wash  your  mouth  five  or  six 
times.  Mouton,  whom  I  desire  you  will  send  for  upon 
your  arrival  at  Paris,  will  give  you  an  opiate,  and  a  liquor 
to  be  used  sometimes.  Nothing  looks  more  ordinary,  vul- 
gar, and  illiberal,  than  dirty  hands,  and  ugly,  uneven, 
and  ragged  nails :  I  do  not  suspect  you  of  that  shock- 
ing, awkward  trick,  of  biting  yours;  but  that  is  not 
enough :  you  must  keep  the  ends  of  them  smooth  and 
clean,  not  tipped  with  black,  as  the  ordinary  people's  always 
are.  The  ends  of  your  nails  should  be  small  segments 
of  circles,  which,  by  a  very  little  care  in  the  cutting, 
they  are  very  easily  brought  to ;  every  time  that  you 
wipe  your  hands,  rub  the  skin  round  your  nails  backward, 
that  it  may  not  grow  up,  and  shorten  your  nails  too  much. 
The  cleanliness  of  the  rest  of  your  person,  which,  by 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  35! 

the  way,  will  conduce  greatly  to  your  health,  I  refer 
from  time  to  time  to  the  bagnio.  My  mentioning  these 
particulars  arises  (I  freely  own)  from  some  suspicion  that 
the  hints  are  not  unnecessary;  for,  when  you  were  a 
schoolboy,  you  were  slovenly  and  dirty  above  your  fellows. 
I  must  add  another  caution,  which  is  that  upon  no  ac- 
count whatever,  you  put  your  fingers,  as  too  many  people 
are  apt  to  do,  in  your  nose  or  ears.  It  is  the  most  shock- 
ing, nasty,  vulgar  rudeness,  that  can  be  offered  to  com- 
pany; it  disgusts  one,  it  turns  one's  stomach;  and,  for  my 
own  part,  I  would  much  rather  know  that  a  man's  fingers 
were  actually  in  his  breech,  than  see  them  in  his  nose. 
Wash  your  ears  well  every  morning,  and  blow  your  nose 
in  your  handkerchief  whenever  you  have  occasion ;  but,  by 
the  way,  without  looking  at  it  afterward.  There  should 
be  in  the  least,  as  well  as  in  the  greatest  parts  of  a 
gentleman,  les  manures  nobles.  Sense  will  teach  you 
some,  observation  others;  attend  carefully  to  the  manners, 
the  diction,  the  motions,  of  people  of  the  first  fashion,  and 
form  your  own  upon  them.  On  the  other  hand,  observe  a 
little  those  of  the  vulgar,  in  order  to  avoid  them :  for  though 
the  things  which  they  say  or  do  may  be  the  same,  the  man- 
ner is  always  totally  different :  and  in  that,  and  nothing 
else,  consists  the  characteristic  of  a  man  of  fashion.  The 
lowest  peasant  speaks,  moves,  dresses,  eats,  and  drinks,  as 
much  as  a  man  of  the  first  fashion,  but  does  them  all 
quite  differently ;  so  that  by  doing  and  saying  most  things 
in  a  manner  opposite  to  that  of  the  vulgar,  you  have  a 
great  chance  of  doing  and  saying  them  right.  There  are 
gradations  in  awkwardness  and  vulgarism,  as  there  are  in 
everything  else.  Les  manures  de  robe,  though  not  quite 
right,  are  still  better  than  les  manures  bourgeoises;  and 
these,  though  bad,  are  still  better  than  les  manures  de 
campagne.  But  the  language,  the  air,  the  dress,  and  the 
manners  of  the  court,  are  the  only  true  standard  des 
manures  nobles,  et  d'un  honnete  homme.  Ex  pede  Hercu- 
lem  is  an  old  and  true  saying,  and  very  applicable  to  our 
present  subject ;  for  a  man  of  parts,  who  has  been  bred  at 
courts,  and  used  to  keep  the  best  company,  will  distin- 
guish himself,  and  is  to  be  known  from  the  vulgar  by 
every  word,  attitude,  gesture,  and  even  look.  I  cannot 


352  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

leave  these  seeming  minutiae  ^  without  repeating  to  you  the 
necessity  of  your  carving  well;  which  is  an  article,  little 
as  it  is,  that  is  useful  twice  every  day  of  one's  life ;  and 
the  doing  it  ill  is  very  troublesome  to  one's  self,  and  very 
disagreeable,  often  ridiculous,  to  others. 

Having  said  all  this,  I  cannot  help  reflecting,  what  a 
formal  dull  fellow,  or  a  cloistered  pedant,  would  say,  if 
they  were  to  see  this  letter  :  they  would  look  upon  it  with 
the  utmost  contempt,  and  say  that  surely  a  father  might 
find  much  better  topics  for  advice  to  a  son.  I  would  ad- 
mit it,  if  I  had  given  you,  or  that  you  were  capable  of 
receiving,  no  better;  but  if  sufficient  pains  have  been  taken 
to  form  your  heart  and  improve  your  mind,  and,  as  I 
hope,  not  without  success,  I  will  tell  those  solid  gentle- 
men, that  all  these  trifling  things,  as  they  think  them, 
collectively  form  that  pleasing  je  ne  sais  quoi,  that  en- 
semble, which  they  are  utter  strangers  to  both  in  them- 
selves and  others.  The  word  aimable  is  not  known  in 
their  language,  or  the  thing  in  their  manners.  Great  usage 
of  the  world,  great  attention,  and  a  great  desire  of  pleas- 
ing, can  alone  give  it ;  and  it  is  no  trifle.  It  is  from  old 
people's  looking  upon  these  things  as  trifles,  or  not  think- 
ing of  them  at  all,  that  so  many  young  people  are  so  awk- 
ward and  so  ill-bred.  Their  parents,  often  careless  and 
unmindful  of  them,  give  them  only  the  common  run  of 
education,  as  school,  university,  and  then  traveling;  with- 
out examining,  and  very  often  without  being  able  to 
judge,  if  they  did  examine,  what  progress  they  make  in 
any  one  of  these  stages.  Then,  they  carelessly  comfort 
themselves,  and  say,  that  their  sons  will  do  like  other 
people's  sons;  and  so  they  do,  that  is,  commonly  very  ill. 
They  correct  none  of  the  childish  nasty  tricks,  which  they 
get  at  school;  nor  the  illiberal  manners  which  they  con- 
tract at  the  university;  nor  the  frivolous  and  superficial 
pertness,  which  is  commonly  all  that  they  acquire  by  their 
travels.  As  they  do  not  tell  them  of  these  things,  nobody 
else  can ;  so  they  go  on  in  the  practice  of  them,  without 
ever  hearing,  or  knowing,  that  they  are  unbecoming,  in- 
decent, and  shocking.  For,  as  I  have  often  formerly  ob- 
served to  you,  nobody  but  a  father  can  take  the  liberty  to 
reprove  a  young  fellow,  grown  up,  for  those  kinds  of 


LETTERS  TO  HIS   SON  353 

inaccuracies  and  improprieties  of  behavior.  The  most  inti- 
mate friendship,  unassisted  by  the  paternal  superiority, 
will  not  authorize  it.  I  may  truly  say,  therefore,  that  you 
are  happy  in  having  me  for  a  sincere,  friendly,  and  quick- 
sighted  monitor.  Nothing  will  escape  me :  I  shall  pry 
for  your  defects,  in  order  to  correct  them,  as  curiously  as 
I  shall  seek  for  your  perfections,  in  order  to  applaud  and 
reward  them,  with  this  difference  only,  that  I  shall  publicly 
mention  the  latter,  and  never  hint  at  the  former,  but  in  a 
letter  to,  or  a  tete-cl-tete  with  you.  I  will  never  put  you 
out  of  countenance  before  company ;  and  I  hope  you  will 
never  give  me  reason  to  be  out  of  countenance  for  you,  as 
any  one  of  the  above-mentioned  defects  would  make  me. 
Prcetor  non  curat  de  minimis,  was  a  maxim  in  the  Roman 
law;  for  causes  only  of  a  certain  value  were  tried  by  him ; 
but  there  were  inferior  jurisdictions,  that  took  cognizance 
of  the  smallest.  Now  I  shall  try  you,  not  only  as  praetor 
in  the  greatest,  but  as  censor  in  lesser,  and  as  the  lowest 
magistrate  in  the  least  cases. 

I  have  this  moment  received  Mr.  Harte's  letter  of  the 
ist  November,  N.  S.,  by  which  I  am  very  glad  to  find 
that  he  thinks  of  moving  toward  Paris,  the  end  of  this 
month,  which  looks  as  if  his  leg  were  better;  besides,  in 
my  opinion,  you  both  of  you  only  lose  time  at  Mont- 
pelier ;  he  would  find  better  advice,  and  you  better  com- 
pany, at  Paris.  In  the  meantime,  I  hope  you  go  into  the 
best  company  there  is  at  Montpelier;  and  there  always  is 
some  at  the  Intendant's,  or  the  Commandant's.  You  will 
have  had  full  time  to  learn  les  petites  chansons  Languedo- 
ciennes,  which  are  exceedingly  pretty  ones,  both  words 
and  tunes.  I  remember,  when  I  was  in  those  parts,  I 
was  surprised  at  the  difference  which  I  found  between  the 
people  on  one  side,  and  those  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Rh6ne.  The  Provenqaux  were,  in  general,  surly,  ill-bred, 
ugly,  and  swarthy ;  the  Languedocians  the  very  reverse :  a 
cheerful,  well-bred,  handsome  people.  Adieu!  Yours  most 
affectionately. 

P.  S.     Upon  reflection,  I    direct    this    letter    to    Paris;    I 
think  you  must  have  left  Montpelier  before  it  could    arrive 
there. 
23 


354  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 


LETTER   CXXIV 

LONDON,  November  19,  O.  S.  1750. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  was  very  glad  to  find  by  your 
letter  of  the  I2th,  N.  S.,  that  you  had  informed 
yourself  so  well  of  the  state  of  the  French  marine 
at  Toulon,  and  of  the  commerce  at  Marseilles ;  they  are  ob- 
jects that  deserve  the  inquiry  and  attention  of  every  man 
who  intends  to  be  concerned  in  public  affairs.  The  French 
are  now  wisely  attentive  to  both ;  their  commerce  is  in- 
credibly increased  within  these  last  thirty  years ;  they  have 
beaten  us  out  of  great  part  of  our  Levant  trade ;  their  East 
India  trade  has  greatly  affected  ours ;  and,  in  the  West 
Indies,  their  Martinico  establishment  supplies,  not  only 
France  itself,  but  the  greatest  part  of  Europe,  with  sugars : 
whereas  our  islands,  as  Jamaica,  Barbadoes,  and  the  Lee- 
ward, have  now  no  other  market  for  theirs  but  England. 
New  France,  or  Canada,  has  also  greatly  lessened  our  fur 
and  skin  trade.  It  is  true  (as  you  say)  that  we  have  no 
treaty  of  commerce  subsisting  (I  do  not  say  WITH  MAR- 
SEILLES) but  with  France.  There  was  a  treaty  of  com- 
merce made  between  England  and  France,  immediately  after 
the  treaty  of  Utrecht  ;  but  the  whole  treaty  was  conditional, 
and  to  depend  upon  the  parliament's  enacting  certain  things 
which  were  stipulated  in  two  of  the  articles ;  the  parlia- 
ment, after  a  very  famous  debate,  would  not  do  it ;  so  the 
treaty  fell  to  the  ground :  however,  the  outlines  of  that 
treaty  are,  by  mutual  and  tacit  consent,  the  general  rules  of 
our  present  commerce  with  France.  It  is  true,  too,  that  our 
commodities  which  go  to  France,  must  go  in  our  bottoms ; 
the  French  having  imitated  in  many  respects  our  famous 
Act  of  Navigation,  as  it  is  commonly  called.  This  act  was 
made  in  the  year  1652,  in  the  parliament  held  by  Oliver 
Cromwell.  It  forbids  all  foreign  ships  to  bring  into  Eng- 
land any  merchandise  or  commodities  whatsoever,  that  were 
not  of  the  growth  and  produce  of  that  country  to  which 
those  ships  belonged,  under  penalty  of  the  forfeiture  of 
such  ships.  This  act  was  particularly  leveled  at  the  Dutch, 
who  were  at  that  time  the  carriers  of  almost  all  Europe, 
and  got  immensely  by  freight.  Upon  this  principle,  of  the 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  355 

advantages  arising  from  freight,  there  is  a  provision  in  the 
same  act,  that  even  the  growth  and  produce  of  our  own 
colonies  in  America  shall  not  be  carried  from  thence  to  any 
other  country  in  Europe,  without  first  touching  in  England ; 
but  this  clause  has  lately  been  repealed,  in  the  instances  of 
some  perishable  commodities,  such  as  rice,  etc.,  which  are 
allowed  to  be  carried  directly  from  our  American  colonies 
to  other  countries.  The  act  also  provides,  that  two-thirds, 
I  think,  of  those  who  navigate  the  said  ships  shall  be  Brit- 
ish subjects.  There  is  an  excellent,  and  little  book,  writ- 
ten by  the  famous  Monsieur  Huet  Ev£que  d'Avranches, 
Sur  le  Commerce  des  Anciens,  which  is  very  well  worth 
your  reading,  and  very  soon  read.  It  will  give  you  a  clear 
notion  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  commerce.  There  are 
many  other  books,  which  take  up  the  history  of  commerce 
where  Monsieur  d'Avranches  leaves  it,  and  bring  it  down 
to  these  times.  I  advise  you  to  read  some  of  them  with  care ; 
commerce  being  a  very  essential  part  of  political  knowledge 
in  every  country ;  but  more  particularly  in  that  which  owes 
all  its  riches  and  power  to  it. 

I  come  now  to  another  part  of  your  letter,  which  is  the 
orthography,  if  I  may  call  bad  spelling  ORTHOGRAPHY. 
You  spell  induce,  KNDUCK  ;  and  grandeur,  you  spell  grand- 
URK  ;  two  faults  of  which  few  of  my  housemaids  would 
have  been  guilty.  I  must  tell  you  that  orthography,  in 
the  true  sense  of  the  word,  is  so  absolutely  necessary  for  a 
man  of  letters,  or  a  gentleman,  that  one  false  spelling  may 
fix  ridicule  upon  him  for  the  rest  of  his  life ;  and  I  know 
a  man  of  quality,  who  never  recovered  the  ridicule  of  hav- 
ing spelled  WHOLESOME  without  the  w. 

Reading  with  care  will  secure  everybody  from  false  spell- 
ing ;  for  books  are  always  well  spelled,  according  to  the 
orthography  of  the  times.  Some  words  are  indeed  doubt- 
ful, being  spelled  differently  by  different  authors  of  equal 
authority ;  but  those  are  few ;  and  in  those  cases  every  man 
has  his  option,  because  he  may  plead  his  authority  either 
way;  but  where  there  is  but  one  right  way,  as  in  the  two 
words  above  mentioned,  it  is  unpardonable  and  ridicu- 
lous for  a  gentleman  to  miss  it ;  even  a  woman  of  a  toler- 
able education  would  despise  and  laugh  at  a  lover,  who 
should  send  her  an  ill-spelled  billet-doux.  I  fear  and 


3$6  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

suspect,  that  you  have  taken  it  into  your  head,  in  most  cases, 
that  the  matter  is  all,  and  the  manner  little  or  nothing.  If  you 
have,  undeceive  yourself,  and  be  convinced  that,  in  every- 
thing, the  manner  is  full  as  important  as  the  matter.  If 
you  speak  the  sense  of  an  angel,  in  bad  words  and  with 
a  disagreeable  utterance,  nobody  will  hear  you  twice,  who 
can  help  it.  If  you  write  epistles  as  well  as  Cicero,  but 
in  a  very  bad  hand,  and  very  ill-spelled,  whoever  receives 
will  laugh  at  them ;  and  if  you  had  the  figure  of  Adonis, 
with  an  awkward  air  and  motions,  it  will  disgust  instead 
of  pleasing.  Study  manner,  therefore,  in  everything,  if  you 
would  be  anything.  My  principal  inquiries  of  my  friends 
at  Paris,  concerning  you,  will  be  relative  to  your  manner 
of  doing  whatever  you  do.  I  shall  not  inquire  whether 
you  understand  Demosthenes,  Tacitus,  or  the  Jus  Publicum 
Imperil ;  but  I  shall  inquire,  whether  your  utterance  is 
pleasing,  your  style  not  only  pure,  but  elegant,  your  man- 
ners noble  and  easy,  your  air  and  address  engaging  : 
in  short,  whether  you  are  a  gentleman,  a  man  of  fashion, 
and  fit  to  keep  good  company,  or  not ;  for,  till  I  am 
satisfied  in  these  particulars,  you  and  I  must  by  no  means 
meet ;  I  could  not  possibly  stand  it.  It  is  in  your  power 
to  become  all  this  at  Paris,  if  you  please.  Consult  with 
Lady  Hervey  and  Madame  Monconseil  upon  all  these  mat- 
ters ;  and  they  will  speak  to  you,  and  advise  you  freely. 
Tell  them,  that  bisogna  compatire  ancora,  that  you  are 
utterly  new  in  the  world;  that  you  are  desirous  to  form 
yourself;  that  you  beg  they  will  reprove,  advise,  and  cor- 
rect you ;  that  you  know  that  none  can  do  it  so  well ;  and 
that  you  will  implicitly  follow  their  directions.  This,  to- 
gether with  your  careful  observation  of  the  manners  of  the 
best  company,  will  really  form  you. 

Abb6  Guasco,  a  friend  of  mine,  will  come  to  you  as  soon 
as  he  knows  of  your  arrival  at  Paris ;  he  is  well  received 
in  the  best  companies  there,  and  will  introduce  you  to  them. 
He  will  be  desirous  to  do  you  any  service  he  can ;  he  is 
active  and  curious,  and  can  give  you  information  upon  most 
things.  He  is  a  sort  of  complaisant  of  the  President 
Montesquieu,  to  whom  you  have  a  letter. 

I  imagine  that  this  letter  will  not  wait  for  you  very  long  at 
Paris,  where  I  reckon  you  will  be  in  about  a  fortnight.  Adieu. 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  357 


LETTER   CXXV 

LONDON,  December  24,   1750. 

My  DEAR  FRIEND  :  At  length  you  are  become  a  Paris- 
ian,  and  consequently  must  be  addressed  in  French; 
you  will  also  answer  me  in  the  same  language,  that 
I  may  be  able  to  judge  of  the  degree  in  which  you  possess 
the  elegance,  the  delicacy,  and  the  orthography  of  that 
language  which  is,  in  a  manner,  become  the  universal  one 
of  Europe.  I  am  assured  that  you  speak  it  well,  but  in 
that  well  there  are  gradations.  He,  who  in  the  provinces 
might  be  reckoned  to  speak  correctly,  would  at  Paris  be 
looked  upon  as  an  ancient  Gaul.  In  that  country  of  mode, 
even  language  is  subservient  to  fashion,  which  varies  almost 
as  often  as  their  clothes. 

The    AFFECTED,    the    REFINED,    the     NEOLOGICAL,    OR     NEW 

FASHIONABLE  STYLE  are  at  present  too  much  in  vogue  at 
Paris.  Know,  observe,  and  occasionally  converse  (if  you 
please)  according  to  those  different  styles;  but  do  not  let 
your  taste  be  infected  by  them.  Wit,  too,  is  there  subservi- 
ent to  fashion;  and  actually,  at  Paris,  one  must  have  wit, 
even  in  despite  of  Minerva.  Everybody  runs  after  it ;  al- 
though if  it  does  not  come  naturally  and  of  itself,  it  never 
can  be  overtaken.  But,  unfortunately  for  those  who  pursue, 
they  seize  upon  what  they  take  for  wit,  and  endeavor  to 
pass  it  for  such  upon  others.  This  is,  at  best,  the  lot  of 
Ixion,  who  embraced  a  cloud  instead  of  the  goddess  he  pur- 
sued. Fine  sentiments,  which  never  existed,  false  and  un- 
natural thoughts,  obscure  and  far-sought  expressions,  not 
only  unintelligible,  but  which  it  is  even  impossible  to  de- 
cipher, or  to  guess  at,  are  all  the  consequences  of  this  error ; 
and  two-thirds  of  the  new  French  books  which  now  appear 
are  made  up  of  those  ingredients.  It  is  the  new  cookery 
of  Parnassus,  in  which  the  still  is  employed  instead  of  the 
pot  and  the  spit,  and  where  quintessences  and  extracts  are 
chiefly  used.  N.  B.  The  Attic  salt  is  proscribed. 

You  will  now  and  then  be  obliged  to  eat  of  this  new 
cookery,  but  do  not  suffer  your  taste  to  be  corrupted  by  it. 
And  when  you,  in  your  turn,  are  desirous  of  treating  others, 


358  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

take  the  good  old  cookery  of  Lewis  XIV. 's  reign  for  your 
rule.  There  were  at  that  time  admirable  head  cooks,  such  as 
Corneille,  Boileau,  Racine,  and  La  Fontaine.  Whatever 
they  prepared  was  simple,  wholesome,  and  solid.  But  lay- 
ing aside  all  metaphors,  do  not  suffer  yourself  to  be  dazzled 
by  false  brilliancy,  by  unnatural  expressions,  nor  by  those 
antitheses  so  much  in  fashion  :  as  a  protection  against  such 
innovations,  have  a  recourse  to  your  own  good  sense,  and 
to  the  ancient  authors.  On  the  other  hand,  do  not  laugh 
at  those  who  give  into  such  errors  ;  you  are  as  yet  too 
young  to  act  the  critic,  or  to  stand  forth  a  severe  avenger 
of  the  violated  rights  of  good  sense.  Content  yourself  with 
not  being  perverted,  but  do  not  think  of  converting  others ; 
let  them  quietly  enjoy  their  errors  in  taste,  as  well  as  in 
religion.  Within  the  course  of  the  last  century  and  a  half, 
taste  in  France  has  (as  well  as  that  kingdom  itself)  under- 
gone many  vicissitudes.  Under  the  reign  of  I  do  not  say 
Lewis  XIII.  but  of  Cardinal  de  Richelieu,  good  taste  first 
began  to  make  its  way.  It  was  refined  under  that  of  Lewis 
XIV.,  a  great  king,  at  least,  if  not  a  great  man.  Cor- 
neille was  the  restorer  of  true  taste,  and  the  founder  of 
the  French  theatre  ;  although  rather  inclined  to  the  Italian 
Concetti  and  the  Spanish  Agudeze.  Witness  those  epi- 
grams which  he  makes  ChimSne  utter  in  the  greatest  excess 
of  grief. 

Before  his  time,  those  kind  of  itinerant  authors,  called 
troubadours  or  romanciers,  were  a  species  of  madmen 
who  attracted  the  admiration  of  fools.  Toward  the  end  of 
Cardinal  de  Richelieu's  reign,  and  the  beginning  of  Lewis 
XIV. 's,  the  Temple  of  Taste  was  established  at  the  H6tel 
of  Rambouillet  ;  but  that  taste  was  not  judiciously  refined  : 
this  Temple  of  Taste  might  more  properly  have  been  named 
a  Laboratory  of  Wit,  where  good  sense  was  put  to  the 
torture,  in  order  to  extract  from  it  the  most  subtile  essence. 
There  it  was  that  Voiture  labored  hard  and  incessantly  to 
create  wit.  At  length,  Boileau  and  MoliSre  fixed  the 
standard  of  true  taste.  In  spite  of  the  Scuderys,  the  Cal- 
prenedes,  etc.,  they  defeated  and  put  to  flight  ARTAMENES, 
JUBA,  OROONDATES,  and  all  those  heroes  of  romance,  who 
were,  notwithstanding  (each  of  them),  as  good  as  a  whole 
army.  Those  madmen  then  endeavored  to  obtain  an  asylum 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  359 

in  libraries ;  this  they  could  not  accomplish,  but  were  under 
a  necessity  of  taking  shelter  in  the  chambers  of  some  few 
ladies.  I  would  have  you  read  one  volume  of  <(  Cleopatra," 
and  one  of  <(  Clelia  "  ;  it  will  otherwise  be  impossible  for  you 
to  form  any  idea  of  the  extravagances  they  contain  ;  but 
God  keep  you  from  ever  persevering  to  the  twelfth. 

During  almost  the  whole  reign  of  Lewis  XIV.,  true  taste 
remained  in  its  purity,  until  it  received  some  hurt,  although 
undesignedly,  from  a  very  fine  genius,  I  mean  Monsieur  de 
Fontenelle ;  who,  with  the  greatest  sense  and  the  most 
solid  learning,  sacrificed  rather  too  much  to  the  Graces, 
whose  most  favorite  child  and  pupil  he  was.  Admired 
with  reason,  others  tried  to  imitate  him ;  but,  unfortunately 
for  us,  the  author  of  the  (<  Pastorals,"  of  the  "History  of 
Oracles,"  and  of  the  <(  French  Theatre,"  found  fewer  imi- 
tators than  the  Chevalier  d'Her  did  mimics.  He  has  since 
been  taken  off  by  a  thousand  authors  :  but  never  really  imi- 
tated by  anyone  that  I  know  of. 

At  this  time,  the  seat  of  true  taste  in  France  seems  to 
me  not  well  established.  It  exists,  but  torn  by  factions. 
There  is  one  party  of  petits  maitres,  one  of  half-learned 
women,  another  of  insipid  authors  whose  works  are  verba 
et  voces,  et  prceterea  nihil;  and,  in  short,  a  numerous  and 
very  fashionable  party  of  writers,  who,  in  a  metaphysical 
jumble,  introduce  their  false  and  subtle  reasonings  upon  the 
movements  and  the  sentiments  of  THE  SOUL,  THE  HEART, 
and  THE  MIND. 

Do  not  let  yourself  be  overpowered  by  fashion,  nor  by  par- 
ticular sets  of  people  with  whom  you  may  be  connected ;  but 
try  all  the  different  coins  before  you  receive  any  in  payment. 
Let  your  own  good  sense  and  reason  judge  of  the  value  of 
each ;  and  be  persuaded,  that  NOTHING  CAN  BE  BEAUTIFUL, 
UNLESS  TRUE  :  whatever  brilliancy  is  not  the  result  of  the 
solidity  and  justness  of  a  thought,  it  is  but  a  false  glare. 
The  Italian  saying  upon  a  diamond  is  equally  just  with  re- 
gard to  thoughts,  Quanta  pifo  sodezza,  tanto  pih  splendore. 

All  this  ought  not  to  hinder  you  from  conforming 
externally  to  the  modes  and  tones  of  the  different  companies 
in  which  you  may  chance  to  be.  With  the  petits  maitres 
speak  epigrams ;  false  sentiments,  with  frivolous  women ; 
and  a  mixture  of  all  these  together,  with  professed  beaux 


360  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

esprits.  I  would  have  you  do  so ;  for  at  your  age  you 
ought  not  to  aim  at  changing  the  tone  of  the  company, 
but  conform  to  it.  Examine  well,  however;  weigh  all 
maturely  within  yourself;  and  do  not  mistake  the  tinsel  of 
Tasso  for  the  gold  of  Virgil. 

You  will  find  at  Paris  good  authors,  and  circles  dis- 
tinguished by  the  solidity  of  their  reasoning.  You  will 
never  hear  TRIFLING,  AFFECTED,  and  far-sought  conver- 
sations, at  Madame  de  Monconseil's,  nor  at  the  hdtels  of 
Matignon  and  Coigni,  where  she  will  introduce  you.  The 
President  Montesquieu  will  not  speak  to  you  in  the  epi- 
grammatic style.  His  book,  the  (<  Spirit  of  the  Laws,® 
written  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  will  equally  please  and 
instruct  you. 

Frequent  the  theatre  whenever  Corneille,  Racine,  and 
Moliere's  pieces  are  played.  They  are  according  to  nature 
and  to  truth.  I  do  not  mean  by  this  to  give  an  exclusion 
to  several  admirable  modern  plays,  particularly  <(  Genie,®* 
replete  with  sentiments  that  are  true,  natural,  and  applicable 
to  one's  self.  If  you  choose  to  know  the  characters  of 
people  now  in  fashion,  read  Cr6billon  the  younger,  and 
Marivaux's  works.  The  former  is  a  most  excellent  painter; 
the  latter  has  studied,  and  knows  the  human  heart,  perhaps 
too  well.  Cr6billon's  Egaremens  du  Cceur  et  de  V Esprit 
is  an  excellent  work  in  its  kind;  it  will  be  of  infinite 
amusement  to  you,  and  not  totally  useless.  The  Japanese 
history  of  <c  Tanzal  and  Neadarne,®  by  the  same  author,  is  an 
amiable  extravagancy,  interspersed  with  the  most  just  re- 
flections. In  short,  provided  you  do  not  mistake  the  objects 
of  your  attention,  you  will  find  matter  at  Paris  to  form  a 
good  and  true  taste. 

As  I  shall  let  you  remain  at  Paris  without  any  person  to 
direct  your  conduct,  I  flatter  myself  that  you  will  not  make 
a  bad  use  of  the  confidence  I  repose  in  you.  I  do  not 
require  that  you  should  lead  the  life  of  a  Capuchin  friar ; 
quite  the  contrary :  I  recommend  pleasures  to  you ;  but  I 
expect  that  they  shall  be  the  pleasures  of  a  gentleman. 
Those  add  brilliancy  to  a  young  man's  character;  but 
debauchery  vilifies  and  degrades  it.  I  shall  have  very  true 
and  exact  accounts  of  your  conduct;  and,  according  to  the 

•Imitated  in  English  bj  Mr.  Francis,  in  a  play  called  "Eugenia.0 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  361 

informations  I  receive,  shall  be  more,  or  less,  or  not  at  all, 
yours.     Adieu. 

P.  S.  Do  not  omit  writing  to  me  once  a- week;  and  let 
your  answer  to  this  letter  be  in  French.  Connect  yourself 
as  much  as  possible  with  the  foreign  ministers ;  which  is 
properly  traveling  into  different  countries,  without  going 
from  one  place.  Speak  Italian  to  all  the  Italians,  and 
German  to  all  the  Germans  you  meet,  in  order  not  to 
forget  those  two  languages. 

I  wish  you,  my  dear  friend,  as  many  happy  new  years 
as  you  deserve,  and  not  one  more.  May  you  deserve  a 
great  number! 


LETTER    CXXVI 

LONDON,  January  8,  O..S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  By  your  letter  of  the  5th,  N.  S.,  I 
find  that  your  d&ut  at  Paris  has  been  a  good  one ; 
you  are  entered  into  good  company,  and  I  dare  say 
you  will  not  sink  into  bad.  Frequent  the  houses  where 
you  have  been  once  invited,  and  have  none  of  that  shyness 
which  makes  most  of  your  countrymen  strangers,  where 
they  might  be  intimate  and  domestic  if  they  pleased. 
Wherever  you  have  a  general  invitation  to  sup  when  you 
please,  profit  of  it,  with  decency,  and  go  every  now  and 
then.  Lord  Albemarle  will,  I  am  sure,  be  extremely  kind 
to  you,  but  his  house  is  only  a  dinner  house ;  and,  as  I  am 
informed,  frequented  by  no  French  people.  Should  he 
happen  to  employ  you  in  his  bureau,  which  I  much  doubt, 
you  must  write  a  better  hand  than  your  common  one,  or 
you  will  get  no  credit  by  your  manuscripts;  for  your  hand 
is  at  present  an  illiberal  one ;  it  is  neither  a  hand  of 
business  nor  of  a  gentleman,  but  the  hand  of  a  school-boy 
writing  his  exercise,  which  he  hopes  will  never  be  read. 

Madame  de  Monconseil  gives  me  a  favorable  account  of 
you;  and  so  do  Marquis  de  Matignon  and  Madame  du 
Boccage ;  they  all  say  that  you  desire  to  please,  and  conse- 
quently promise  me  that  you -will;  and  they  judge  right; 


362  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

for  whoever  really  desires  to  please,  and  has  (as  you  now 
have)  the  means  of  learning  how,  certainly  will  please : 
and  that  is  the  great  point  of  life;  it  makes  all  other  things 
easy.  Whenever  you  are  with  Madame  de  Monconseil, 
Madame  du  Boccage,  or  other  women  of  fashion,  with 
whom  you  are  tolerably  free,  say  frankly  and  naturally: 
Je  n^ai  point  d' usage  du  monde,  j'y  suis  encore  bien  neuf;  je 
souhaiterois  ardemment  de  plaire,  mats  je  ne  sais  gubres  com- 
ment m'y  prendre.  Ayez  la  bonte",  Madame,  de  me  faire  part 
de  votre  secret  de  plaire  a  tout  le  monde.  J'en  ferai  ma  for- 
tune, et  il  vous  en  restera  pourtant  toujours,plus  qu'il  ne  vous 
enfaut.*  When,  in  consequence  of  this  request,  they  shall 
tell  you  of  any  little  error,  awkwardness,  or  impropriety, 
you  should  not  only  feel,  but  express  the  warmest  acknowl- 
edgment. Though  nature  should  suffer,  and  she  will  at 
first  hearing  them,  tell  them,  £%ue  la  critique  la  plus  sdvbre 
es-t  &  votre  tgard  la  preuve  la  plus  marquee  de  leur  amite".\ 
Madame  du  Boccage  tells  me,  particularly,  to  inform  you: 
Qu'il  me  f era  toujours  plaisir  et  honneur  de  me  venir  voir:  il 
est  vrai  qu'a  son  age  le  plaisir  de  causer  est  Jroid;  mais  je 
tdcherai  de  lui  faire  connoissance  a-uec  des  jeunes  gens,  etc.  J 
Make  use  of  this  invitation,  and  as  you  live,  in  a  manner, 
next  door  to  her,  step  in  and  out  there  frequently.  Mon- 
sieur du  Boccage  will  go  with  you,  he  tells  me,  with  great 
pleasure,  to  the  plays,  and  point  out  to  you  whatever 
deserves  your  knowing  there.  This  is  worth  your  acceptance 
too ;  he  has  a  very  good  taste.  I  have  not  yet  heard  from 
Lady  Hervey  upon  your  subject;  but  as  you  inform  me 
that  you  have  already  supped  with  her  once,  I  look  upon 
you  as  adopted  by  her;  consult  her  in  all  your  little  mat- 
ters ;  tell  her  any  difficulties  that  may  occur  to  you ;  ask 
her  what  you  should  do  or  say  in  such  or  such  cases ;  she 

*(<I  know  little  of  the  world;  I  am  quite  a  novice  in  it;  and  al- 
though very  desirous  of  pleasing,  I  am  at  a  loss  for  the  means.  Be 
so  good,  Madame,  as  to  let  me  into  your  secret  of  pleasing  everybody. 
I  shall  owe  my  success  to  it,  and  you  will  always  have  more  than 
falls  to  your  share.8 

t (<  That  you  will  look  upon  the  most  severe  criticisms  as  the  greatest 
proof  of  their  friendship.® 

1 <f  I  shall  always  receive  the  honor  of  his  visits  with  pleasure ;  it 
is  true,  that  at  his  age  the  pleasures  of  conversation  are  cold;  but  I 
will  endeavor  to  make  him  acquainted  with  young  people, w  etc. 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  3^3 

has  F  usage  du  monde  en  perfection,  and  will  help  you  to 
acquire  it.  Madame  de  Berkenrode  est  paitrie  de  graces, 
and  your  quotation  is  very  applicable  to  her.  You  may  be 
there,  I  dare  say,  as  often  as  you  please,  and  I  would  advise 
you  to  sup  there  once  a  week. 

You  say,  very  justly,  that  as  Mr.  Harte  is  leaving  you, 
you  shall  want  advice  more  than  ever;  you  shall  never 
want  mine ;  and  as  you  have  already  had  so  much  of  it, 
I  must  rather  repeat  than  add  to  what  I  have  already 
given  you;  but  that  I  will  do,  and  add  to  it  occasionally, 
as  circumstances  may  require.  At  present  I  shall  only  re- 
mind you  of  your  two  great  objects,  which  you  should 
always  attend  to;  they  are  parliament  and  foreign  affairs. 
With  regard  to  the  former,  you  can  do  nothing  while 
abroad  but  attend  carefully  to  the  purity,  correctness,  and 
elegance  of  your  diction;  the  clearness  and  gracefulness  of 
your  utterance,  in  whatever  language  you  speak.  As  for 
the  parliamentary  knowledge,  I  will  take  care  of  that  when 
you  come  home.  With  regard  to  foreign  affairs,  everything 
you  do  abroad  may  and  ought  to  tend  that  way.  Your 
reading  should  be  chiefly  historical ;  I  do  not  mean  of  re- 
mote, dark,  and  fabulous  history,  still  less  of  jimcrack 
natural  history  of  fossils,  minerals,  plants,  etc.,  but  I  mean 
the  useful,  political,  and  constitutional  history  of  Europe, 
for  these  last  three  centuries  and  a  half.  The  other  thing 
necessary  for  your  foreign  object,  and  not  less  necessary 
than  either  ancient  or  modern  knowledge,  is  a  great 
knowledge  of  the  world,  manners,  politeness,  address,  and 
le  ton  de  la  bonne  compagnie.  In  that  view,  keeping  a 
great  deal  of  good  company,  is  the  principal  point  to 
which  you  are  now  to  attend.  It  seems  ridiculous  to  tell 
you,  but  it  is  most  certainly  true,  that  your  dancing-master 
is  at  this  time  the  man  in  all  Europe  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance to  you.  You  must  dance  well,  in  order  to  sit, 
stand,  and  walk  well;  and  you  must  do  all  these  well  in 
order  to  please.  What  with  your  exercises,  some  reading, 
and  a  great  deal  of  company,  your  day  is,  I  confess,  ex- 
tremely taken  up;  but  the  day,  if  well  employed,  is  long 
enough  for  everything;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  slat- 
tern away  one  moment  of  it  in  inaction.  At  your  age, 
people  have  strong  and  active  spirits,  alacrity  and  vivacity 


364  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

in  all  they  do ;  are  impigri,  indefatigable,  and  quick.  The 
difference  is,  that  a  young  fellow  of  parts  exerts  all  those 
happy  dispositions  in  the  pursuit  of  proper  objects ;  en- 
deavors to  excel  in  the  solid,  and  in  the  showish  parts  o£ 
life ;  whereas  a  silly  puppy,  or  a  dull  rogue,  throws  away 
all  his  youth  and  spirit  upon  trifles,  where  he  is  serious, 
or  upon  disgraceful  vices,  while  he  aims  at  pleasures.  This 
I  am  sure  will  not  be  your  case ;  your  good  sense  and 
your  good  conduct  hitherto  are  your  guarantees  with  me 
for  the  future.  Continue  only  at  Paris  as  you  have  begun, 
and  your  stay  there  will  make  you,  what  I  have  always 
wished  you  to  be,  as  near  perfection  as  our  nature 
permits. 

Adieu,  my  dear ;    remember  to  write  to  me  once  a-week, 
not  as  to  a  father,  but,  without  reserve,  as  to  a  friend. 


LETTER    CXXVII 

LONDON,  January  14,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  Among  the  many  good  things  Mr. 
Harte  has  told  me  of  you,  two  in  particular  gave 
me  great  pleasure.  The  first,  that  you  are  exceed- 
ingly careful  and  jealous  of  the  dignity  of  your  character; 
that  is  the  sure  and  solid  foundation  upon  which  you  must 
both  stand  and  rise.  A  man's  moral  character  is  a  more 
delicate  thing  than  a  woman's  reputation  of  chastity.  A 
slip  or  two  may  possibly  be  forgiven  her,  and  her  charac- 
ter may  be  clarified  by  subsequent  and  continued  good  con- 
duct :  but  a  man's  moral  character  once  tainted  is  irrepar- 
ably destroyed.  The  second  was,  that  you  had  acquired 
a  most  correct  and  extensive  knowledge  of  foreign  affairs, 
such  as  the  history,  the  treaties,  and  the  forms  of  govern- 
ment of  the  several  countries  of  Europe.  This  sort  of 
knowledge,  little  attended  to  here,  will  make  you  not  only 
useful,  but  necessary,  in  your  future  destination,  and  carry 
you  very  far.  He  added  that  you  wanted  from  hence 
some  books  relative  to  our  laws  and  constitution,  our  colo- 
nies, and  our  commerce ;  of  which  you  know  less  than  of 
those  of  any  other  part  of  Europe.  I  will  send  you  what 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  365 

short  books  I  can  find  of  that  sort,  to  give  you  a  general 
notion  of  those  things :  but  you  cannot  have  time  to  go 
into  their  depths  at  present — you  cannot  now  engage  with 
new  folios ;  you  and  I  will  refer  the  constitutional  part  of 
this  country  to  our  meeting  here,  when  we  will  enter  seri- 
ously into  it,  and  read  the  necessary  books  together.  In 
the  meantime,  go  on  in  the  course  you  are  in,  of  foreign 
matters ;  converse  with  ministers  and  others  of  every  coun- 
try, watch  the  transactions  of  every  court,  and  endeavor  to 
trace  them  up  to  their  source.  This,  with  your  physics, 
your  geometry,  and  your  exercises,  will  be  all  that  you  can 
possibly  have  time  for  at  Paris;  for  you  must  allow  a  great 
deal  for  company  and  pleasures  :  it  is  they  that  must  give 
you  those  manners,  that  address,  that  tournure  of  the  beau 
monde,  which  will  qualify  you  for  your  future  destination. 
You  must  first  please,  in  order  to  get  the  confidence,  and 
consequently  the  secrets,  of  the  courts  and  ministers  for 
whom  and  with  whom  you  negotiate. 

I  will  send  you  by  the  first  opportunity  a  short  book 
written  by  Lord  Bolingbroke,  under  the  name  of  Sir  John 
Oldcastle,  containing  remarks  upon  the  history  of  Eng- 
land ;  which  will  give  you  a  clear  general  notion  of  our 
constitution,  and  which  will  serve  you,  at  the  same  time, 
like  all  Lord  Bolingbroke's  works,  for  a  model  of  elo- 
quence and  style.  I  will  also  send  you  Sir  Josiah  Childe's 
little  book  upon  trade,  which  may  properly  be  called  the 
tt  Commercial  Grammar.*  He  lays  down  the  true  principles 
of  commerce,  and  his  conclusions  from  them  are  generally 
very  just. 

Since  you  turn  your  thoughts  a  little  toward  trade  and 
commerce,  which  I  am  very  glad  you  do,  I  will  recom- 
mend a  French  book  to  you,  which  you  will  easily  get  at 
Paris,  and  which  I  take  to  be  the  best  book  in  the  world 
of  that  kind :  I  mean  the  Dictionnaire  de  Commerce  de 
Sa-vary,  in  three  volumes  in  folio ;  where  you  will  find 
every  one  thing  that  relates  to  trade,  commerce,  specie, 
exchange,  etc.,  most  clearly  stated;  and  not  only  relative  to 
France,  but  to  the  whole  world.  You  will  easily  suppose, 
that  I  do  not  advise  you  to  read  such  a  book  tout  de 
suite;  but  I  only  mean  that  you  should  have  it  at  hand, 
to  have  recourse  to  occasionally. 


366  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

With  this  great  stock  of  both  useful  and  ornamental 
knowledge,  which  you  have  already  acquired,  and  which, 
by  your  application  and  industry,  you  are  daily  increasing, 
you  will  lay  such  a  solid  foundation  of  future  figure  and 
fortune,  that  if  you  complete  it  by  all  the  accomplishments 
of  manners,  graces,  etc.,  I  know  nothing  which  you  may 
not  aim  at,  and  in  time  hope  for.  Your  great  point  at 
present  at  Paris,  to  which  all  other  considerations  must 
give  way,  is  to  become  entirely  a  man  of  fashion :  to 
be  well-bred  without  ceremony,  easy  without  negligence, 
steady  and  intrepid  with  modesty,  genteel  without  affecta- 
tion, insinuating  without  meanness,  cheerful  without  being 
noisy,  frank  without  indiscretion,  and  secret  without  mys- 
teriousness ;  to  know  the  proper  time  and  place  for  what- 
ever you  say  or  do,  and  to  do  it  with  an  air  of  condition  : 
all  this  is  not  so  soon  nor  so  easily  learned  as  people 
imagine,  but  requires  observation  and  time.  The  world  is 
an  immense  folio,  which  demands  a  great  deal  of  time  and 
attention  to  be  read  and  understood  as  it  ought  to  be ;  you 
have  not  yet  read  above  four  or  five  pages  of  it ;  and  you 
will  have  but  barely  time  to  dip  now  and  then  in  other 
less  important  books. 

Lord  Albemarle  has,  I  know,  wrote  to  a  friend  of  his 
here,  that  you  do  not  frequent  him  so  much  as  he  expected 
and  desired;  that  he  fears  somebody  or  other  has  given 
you  wrong  impressions  of  him ;  and  that  I  may  possibly 
think,  from  your  being  seldom  at  his  house,  that  he  has 
been  wanting  in  his  attentions  to  you.  I  told  the  person 
who  told  me  this,  that,  on  the  contrary,  you  seemed,  by 
your  letters  to  me,  to  be  extremely  pleased  with  Lord 
Albemarle's  behavior  to  you:  but  that  you  were  obliged  to 
give  up  dining  abroad  during  your  course  of  experimental 
philosophy.  I  guessed  the  true  reason,  which  I  believe 
was,  that,  as  no  French  people  frequent  his  house,  you 
rather  chose  to  dine  at  other  places,  where  you  were 
likely  to  meet  with  better  company  than  your  countrymen: 
and  you  were  in  the  right  of  it.  However,  I  would  have 
you  show  no  shyness  to  Lord  Albemarle,  but  go  to  him, 
and  dine  with  him  oftener  than  it  may  be  you  would  wish,  for 
the  sake  of  having  him  speak  well  of  you  here  when  he 
returns.  He  is  a  good  deal  in  fashion  here,  and  his 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON  367 

PUFFING  you  (to  use  an  awkward  expression)  before  you 
return  here,  will  be  of  great  use  to  you  afterward.  People 
in  general  take  characters,  as  they  do  most  things,  upon 
trust,  rather  than  be  at  the  trouble  of  examining  them 
themselves;  and  the  decisions  of  four  or  five  fashionable 
people,  in  every  place,  are  final,  more  particularly  with 
regard  to  characters,  which  all  can  hear,  and  but  few 
judge  of.  Do  not  mention  the  least  of  this  to  any  mortal; 
and  take  care  that  Lord  Albemarle  do  not  suspect  that  you 
know  anything  of  the  matter. 

Lord  Huntingdon  and  Lord  Stormount  are,  I  hear,  arrived 
at  Paris ;  you  have,  doubtless,  seen  them.  Lord  Stormount 
is  well  spoken  of  here;  however,  in  your  connections,  if 
you  form  any  with  them,  show  rather  a  preference  to 
Lord  Huntingdon,  for  reasons  which  you  will  easily  guess. 

Mr.  Harte  goes  this  week  to  Cornwall,  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  living;  he  has  been  installed  at  Windsor;  he 
will  return  here  in  about  a  month,  when  your  literary  cor- 
respondence with  him  will  be  regularly  carried  on.  Your 
mutual  concern  at  parting  was  a  good  sign  for  both. 

I  have  this  moment  received  good  accounts  of  you  from 
Paris.  Go  on  vous  Gtes  en  bon  train.  Adieu. 


LETTER     CXXVIII 

LONDON,  January  21,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  In  all  my  letters  from  Paris,  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  finding,  among  many  other 
good  things,  your  docility  mentioned  with  emphasis ; 
this  is  the  sure  way  of  improving  in  those  things,  which 
you  only  want.  It  is  true  they  are  little,  but  it  is  as  true 
too  that  they  are  necessary  things.  As  they  are  mere 
matters  of  usage  and  mode,  it  is  no  disgrace  for  anybody 
of  your  age  to  be  ignorant  of  them ;  and  the  most  com- 
pendious way  of  learning  them  is,  fairly  to  avow  your 
ignorance,  and  to  consult  those  who,  from  long  usage  and 
experience,  know  them  best.  Good  sense  and  good-nature 
suggest  civility  in  general;  but  in  good-breeding  there 


368  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

are  a  thousand  little  delicacies,  which  are  established 
only  by  custom ;  and  it  is  these  little  elegances  of  man- 
ners which  distinguish  a  courtier  and  a  man  of  fashion 
from  the  vulgar.  I  am  assured  by  different  people,  that 
your  air  is  already  much  improved ;  and  one  of  my  cor- 
respondents makes  you  the  true  French  compliment  of  say- 
ing, yose  vous  promettre  qtSil  sera  bientot  comme  un  de 
nos  autres.  However  unbecoming  this  speech  may  be  in 
the  mouth  of  a  Frenchman,  I  am  very  glad  that  they  think 
it  applicable  to  you ;  for  I  would  have  you  not  only  adopt, 
but  rival,  the  best  manners  and  usages  of  the  place  you 
are  at,  be  they  what  they  will ;  that  is  the  versatility  of 
manners  which  is  so  useful  in  the  course  of  the  world. 
Choose  your  models  well  at  Paris,  and  then  rival  them  in 
their  own  way.  There  are  fashionable  words,  phrases,  and 
even  gestures,  at  Paris,  which  are  called  du  bon  ton;  not 
to  mention  certaines  petites  politesses  et  attentions,  qui  ne 
sont  rien  en  elle-memes,  which  fashion  has  rendered  neces- 
sary. Make  yourself  master  of  all  these  things;  and  to 
such  a  degree,  as  to  make  the  French  say,  qu'on  diroit  que 
c*est  un  Francois;  and  when  hereafter  you  shall  be  at 
other  courts,  do  the  same  thing  there;  and  conform  to  the 
fashionable  manners  and  usage  of  the  place ;  that  is  what 
the  French  themselves  are  not  apt  to  do ;  wherever  they 
go,  they  retain  their  own  manners,  as  thinking  them  the 
best;  but,  granting  them  to  be  so,  they  are  still  in  the 
wrong  not  to  conform  to  those  of  the  place.  One  would 
desire  to  please,  wherever  one  is;  and  nothing  is  more  in- 
nocently flattering  than  an  approbation,  and  an  imitation 
of  the  people  one  converses  with. 

I  hope  your  colleges  with  Marcel  go  on  prosperously.  In 
these  ridiculous,  though,  at  the  same  time,  really  important 
lectures,  pray  attend,  and  desire  your  professor  also  to  at- 
tend, more  particularly  to  the  chapter  of  the  arms.  It  is 
they  that  decide  of  a  man's  being  genteel  or  otherwise, 
more  than  any  other  part  of  the  body.  A  twist  or  stiffness 
in  the  wrist,  will  make  any  man  in  Europe  look  awkward. 
The  next  thing  to  be  attended  to  is,  your  coming  into  a 
room,  and  presenting  yourself  to  a  company.  This  gives 
the  first  impression  ;  and  the  first  impression  is  often  a  lasting 
one.  Therefore,  pray  desire  Professor  Marcel  to  make  you 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  369 

come  in  and  go  out  of  his  room  frequently,  and  in  the  sup- 
position of  different  companies  being  there;  such  as  minis- 
ters, women,  mixed  companies,  etc.  Those  who  present 
themselves  well,  have  a  certain  dignity  in  their  air,  which, 
without  the  least  seeming  mixture  of  pride,  at  once  engages, 
and  is  respected. 

I  should  not  so  often  repeat,  nor  so  long  dwell  upon  such 
trifles,  with  anybody  that  had  less  solid  and  valuable  knowl- 
edge than  you  have.  Frivolous  people  attend  to  those  things, 
•par  prdftrence  ;  they  know  nothing  else;  my  fear  with  you 
is,  that,  from  knowing  better  things,  you  should  despise  these 
too  much,  and  think  them  of  much  less  consequence  than 
they  really  are ;  for  they  are  of  a  great  deal,  and  more 
especially  to  you. 

Pleasing  and  governing  women  may,  in  time,  be  of  great 
service  to  you.  They  often  please  and  govern  others.  A 
propos,  are  you  in  love  with  Madame  de  Berkenrode  still, 
or  has  some  other  taken  her  place  in  your  affections?  I 
take  it  for  granted,  that  qua  te  cuinque  domat  Venus,  non 
erubescendis  adurit  ignibus.  Un  arrangement  honnUte  sied 
bien  a  un  galant  homme.  In  that  case  I  recommend  to  you 
the  utmost  discretion,  and  the  profoundest  silence.  Bragging 
of,  hinting  at,  intimating,  or  even  affectedly  disclaiming 
and  denying  such  an  arrangement  will  equally  discredit 
you  among  men  and  women.  An  unaffected  silence  upon 
that  subject  is  the  only  true  medium. 

In  your  commerce  with  women,  and  indeed  with  men 
too,  une  certaine  douceur  is  particularly  engaging;  it  is  that 
which  constitutes  that  character  which  the  French  talk  of  so 
much,  and  so  justly  value,  I  mean  P aimable.  This  douceur 
is  not  so  easily  described  as  felt.  It  is  the  compound  re- 
sult of  different  things  ;  a  complaisance,  a  flexibility,  but 
not  a  servility  of  manners ;  an  air  of  softness  in  the  coun- 
tenance, gesture,  and  expression,  equally  whether  you  con- 
cur or  differ  with  the  person  you  converse  with.  Observe 
those  carefully  who  have  that  douceur  that  charms  you  and 
others;  and  your  own  good  sense  will  soon  enable  you  to 
discover  the  different  ingredients  of  which  it  is  composed. 
You  must  be  more  particularly  attentive  to  this  douceur, 
whenever  you  are  obliged  to  refuse  what  is  asked  of  you, 
or  to  say  what  in  itself  cannot  be  very  agreeable  to  those 
24 


370  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

to  whom  you  say  it.  It  is  then  the  necessary  gilding  of  a 
disagreeable  pill.  L'aimable  consists  in  a  thousand  of  these 
little  things  aggregately.  It  is  the  suamttr  in  modo,  which 
I  have  so  often  recommended  to  you.  The  respectable,  Mr. 
Harte  assures  me,  you  do  not  want,  and  I  believe  him. 
Study,  then,  carefully,  and  acquire  perfectly,  the  Aimable, 
and  you  will  have  everything. 

Abb6  Guasco,  who  is  another  of  your  panegyrists,  writes 
me  word  that  he  has  taken  you  to  dinner  at  Marquis  de 
St.  Germain's ;  where  you  will  be  welcome  as  often  as  you 
please,  and  the  oftener  the  better.  Profit  of  that,  upon  the 
principle  of  traveling  in  different  countries,  without  chang- 
ing places.  He  says,  too,  that  he  will  take  you  to  the 
parliament,  when  any  remarkable  cause  is  to  be  tried.  That 
is  very  well;  go  through  the  several  chambers  of  the  parlia- 
ment, and  see  and  hear  what  they  are  doing ;  join  practice 
and  observation  to  your  theoretical  knowledge  of  their 
rights  and  privileges.  No  Englishman  has  the  least  notion 
of  them. 

I  need  not  recommend  you  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  the 
constitutional  and  political  knowledge  of  countries  ;  for  Mr. 
Harte  tells  me  that  you  have  a  peculiar  turn  that  way,  and 
have  informed  yourself  most  correctly  of  them. 

I  must  now  put  some  queries  to  you,  as  to  a  juris  pub- 
lid  peritus,  which  I  am  sure  you  can  answer  me,  and 
which  I  own  I  cannot  answer  myself;  they  are  upon  a 
subject  now  much  talked  of. 

i st.  Are  there  any  particular  forms  requisite  for  the  elec- 
tion of  a  King  of  the  Romans,  different  from  those  which 
are  necessary  for  the  election  of  an  Emperor? 

2d.  Is  not  a  King  of  the  Romans  as  legally  elected  by  the 
votes  of  a  majority  of  the  electors,  as  by  two-thirds,  or  by 
the  unanimity  of  the  electors? 

3d.  Is  there  any  particular  law  or  constitution  of  the  em- 
pire, that  distinguishes,  either  in  matter  or  in  form,  the 
election  of  a  King  of  the  Romans  from  that  of  an  Emperor? 
And  is  not  the  golden  bull  of  Charles  the  Fourth  equally 
the  rule  for  both? 

4th.  Were  there  not,  at  a  meeting  of  a  certain  number 
of  the  electors  (I  have  forgotten  when),  some  rules  and 
limitations  agreed  upon  concerning  the  election  of  a  King 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  371 

of  the  Romans?  And  were  those  restrictions  legal,  and  did 
they  obtain  the  force  of  law? 

How  happy  am  I,  my  dear  child,  that  I  can  apply  to 
you  for  knowledge,  and  with  a  certainty  of  being  rightly 
informed!  It  is  knowledge,  more  than  quick,  flashy  parts, 
that  makes  a  man  of  business.  A  man  who  is  master  of 
his  matter,  will,  with  inferior  parts,  be  too  hard  in  parlia- 
ment, and  indeed  anywhere  else,  for  a  man  of  better  parts, 
who  knows  his  subject  but  superficially :  and  if  to  his 
knowledge  he  joins  eloquence  and  elocution,  he  must  neces- 
sarily soon  be  at  the  head  of  that  assembly;  but  without 
those  two,  no  knowledge  is  sufficient. 

Lord  Huntingdon  writes  me  word  that  he  has  seen  you, 
and  that  you  have  renewed  your  old  school-acquaintance. 
Tell  me  fairly  your  opinion  of  him,  and  of  his  friend  Lord 
Stormount:  and  also  of  the  other  English  people  of 
fashion  you  meet  with.  I  promise  you  inviolable  secrecy 
on  my  part.  You  and  I  must  now  write  to  each  other  as 
friends,  and  without  the  least  reserve ;  there  will  for  the 
future  be  a  thousand  things  in  my  letters,  which  I  would 
not  have  any  mortal  living  but  yourself  see  or  know.  Those 
you  will  easily  distinguish,  and  neither  show  nor  repeat ; 
and  I  will  do  the  same  by  you. 

To  come  to  another  subject  (for  I  have  a  pleasure  in 
talking  over  every  subject  with  you)  :  How  deep  are  you 
in  Italian  ?  Do  you  understand  Ariosto,  Tasso,  Boccaccio 
and  Machiavelli  ?  If  you  do,  you  know  enough  of  it  and 
may  know  all  the  rest,  by  reading,  when  you  have  time. 
Little  or  no  business  is  written  in  Italian,  except  in  Italy ;  and 
if  you  know  enough  of  it  to  understand  the  few  Italian 
letters  that  may  in  time  come  in  your  way,  and  to  speak 
Italian  tolerably  to  those  very  few  Italians  who  speak  no 
French,  give  yourself  no  further  trouble  about  that  lan- 
guage till  you  happen  to  have  full  leisure  to  perfect  your- 
self in  it.  It  is  not  the  same  with  regard  to  German  ; 
your  speaking  and  writing  it  well,  will  particularly  distin- 
guish you  from  every  other  man  in  England ;  and  is,  more- 
over, of  great  use  to  anyone  who  is,  as  probably  you  will 
be,  employed  in  the  Empire.  Therefore,  pray  cultivate  them 
sedulously,  by  writing  four  or  five  lines  of  German  every 
day,  and  by  speaking  it  to  every  German  you  meet  with. 


372  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

You  have  now  got  a  footing  in  a  great  many  good  houses 
at  Paris,  in  which  I  advise  you  to  make  yourself  domestic. 
This  is  to  be  done  by  a  certain  easiness  of  carriage,  and  a 
decent  familiarity.  Not  by  way  of  putting  yourself  upon 
the  frivolous  footing  of  being  sans  consequence,  but  by  do- 
ing in  some  degree,  the  honors  of  the  house  and  table, 
calling  yourself  en  badinant  le  galopin  d'ici,  saying  to  the 
masters  or  mistress,  ceci  est  de  mon  dtpartement;  je  ni'en 
charge;  avouez,  que  je  m 'en  acquitte  a  merveille.  This  sort 
of  badinage  has  something  engaging  and  liant  in  it,  and  be- 
gets that  decent  familiarity,  which  it  is  both  agreeable  and  use- 
ful to  establish  in  good  houses  and  with  people  of  fashion. 
Mere  formal  visits,  dinners,  and  suppers,  upon  formal  in- 
vitations, are  not  the  thing ;  they  add  to  no  connection 
nor  information ;  but  it  is  the  easy,  careless  ingress  and 
egress  at  all  hours,  that  forms  the  pleasing  and  profitable 
commerce  of  life. 

The  post  is  so  negligent,  that  I  lose  some  letters  from 
Paris  entirely,  and  receive  others  much  later  than  I  should. 
To  this  I  ascribe  my  having  received  no  letter  from  you 
for  above  a  fortnight,  which  to  my  impatience  seems 
a  long  time.  I  expect  to  hear  from  you  once  a-week.  Mr. 
Harte  is  gone  to  Cornwall,  and  will  be  back  in  about  three 
weeks.  I  have  a  packet  of  books  to  send  you  by  the  first 
opportunity,  which  I  believe  will  be  Mr.  Yorke's  return 
to  Paris.  The  Greek  books  come  from  Mr.  Harte,  and  the 
English  ones  from  your  humble  servant.  Read  Lord  Bol- 
ingbroke's  with  great  attention,  as  well  to  the  style  as  to 
the  matter.  I  wish  you  could  form  yourself  such  a  style 
in  every  language.  Style  is  the  dress  of  thoughts;  and 
a  well-dressed  thought,  like  a  well-dressed  man,  appears  to 
great  advantage.  Yours.  Adieu. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  373 


LETTER  CXXIX 

LONDON,  August  28,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  A  bill  for  ninety  pounds  sterling  was 
brought  me  the  other  day,  said  to  be  drawn  upon 
me  by  you  :  I  scrupled  paying  it  at  first,  not  upon 
account  of  the  sum,  but  because  you  had  sent  me  no  letter 
of  advice,  which  is  always  done  in  those  transactions  ;  and 
still  more,  because  I  did  not  perceive  that  you  had  signed 
it.  The  person  who  presented  it,  desired  me  to  look  again, 
and  that  I  should  discover  your  name  at  the  bottom  :  ac- 
cordingly I  looked  again,  and,  with  the  help  of  my  magni- 
fying glass,  did  perceive  that  what  I  had  first  taken  only 
for  somebody's  mark,  was,  in  truth,  your  name,  written  in 
the  worst  and  smallest  hand  I  ever  saw  in  my  life. 

However,  I  paid  it  at  a  venture ;  though  I  would  almost 
rather  lose  the  money,  than  that  such  a  signature  should  be 
yours.  All  gentlemen,  and  all  men  of  business,  write  their 
names  always  in  the  same  way,  that  their  signature  may 
be  so  well  known  as  not  to  be  easily  counterfeited ;  and 
they  generally  sign  in  rather  larger  character  than  their 
common  hand ;  whereas  your  name  was  in  a  less,  and  a 
worse,  than  your  common  writing.  This  suggested  to  me 
the  various  accidents  which  may  very  probably  happen  to 
you,  while  you  write  so  ill.  For  instance,  if  you  were  to 
write  in  such  a  character  to  the  Secretary's  office,  your  letter 
would  immediately  be  sent  to  the  decipherer,  as  containing 
matters  of  the  utmost  secrecy,  not  fit  to  be  trusted  to  the 
common  character.  If  you  were  to  write  so  to  an  antiqua- 
rian, he  (knowing  you  to  be  a  man  of  learning)  would  cer- 
tainly try  it  by  the  Runic,  Celtic,  or  Sclavonian  alphabet, 
never  suspecting  it  to  be  a  modern  character.  And,  if  you 
were  to  send  a  poulet  to  a  fine  woman,  in  such  a  hand,  she 
would  think  that  it  really  came  from  the  poulailler;  which, 
by  the  bye,  is  the  etymology  of  the  word  poulet;  for  Henry 
the  Fourth  of  France  used  to  send  billets-doux  to  his  mis- 
tresses by  his  poulailler^  under  pretense  of  sending  them 
chickens ;  which  gave  the  name  of  poulets  to  those  short, 
but  expressive  manuscripts.  I  have  often  told  you  that 


374  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

every  man  who  has  the  use  of  his  eyes  and  of  his  hand, 
can  write  whatever  hand  he  pleases ;  and  it  is  plain  that 
you  can,  since  you  write  both  the  Greek  and  German  char- 
acters, which  you  never  learned  of  a  writing-master,  ex- 
tremely well,  though  your  common  hand,,  which  you  learned 
of  a  master,  is  an  exceedingly  bad  and  illiberal  one,  equally 
unfit  for  business  or  common  use.  I  do  not  desire  that 
you  should  write  the  labored,  stiff  character  of  a  writing- 
master  :  a  man  of  business  must  write  quick  and  well,  and 
that  depends  simply  upon  use.  I  would  therefore  advise 
you  to  get  some  very  good  writing-master  at  Paris,  and  ap- 
ply to  it  for  a  month  only,  which  will  be  sufficient ;  for,  upon 
my  word,  the  writing  of  a  genteel  plain  hand  of  business 
is  of  much  more  importance  than  you  think.  You  will 
say,  it  may  be,  that  when  you  write  so  very  ill,  it  is  be- 
cause you  are  in  a  hurry,  to  which  I  answer,  Why  are  you 
ever  in  a  hurry?  A  man  of  sense  may  be  in  haste,  but 
can  never  be  in  a  hurry,  because  he  knows  that  whatever 
he  does  in  a  hurry,  he  must  necessarily  do  very  ill.  He 
may  be  in  haste  to  dispatch  an  affair,  but  he  will  care  not 
to  let  that  haste  hinder  his  doing  it  well.  Little  minds  are 
in  a  hurry,  when  the  object  proves  (as  it  commonly  does) 
too  big  for  them ;  they  run,  they  hare,  they  puzzle,  con- 
found, and  perplex  themselves  :  they  want  to  do  everything 
at  once,  and  never  do  it  at  all.  But  a  man  of  sense  takes 
the  time  necessary  for  doing  the  thing  he  is  about,  well ; 
and  his  haste  to  dispatch  a  business  only  appears  by  the 
continuity  of  his  application  to  it  :  he  pursues  it  with  a  cool 
steadiness,  and  finishes  it  before  he  begins  any  other.  I 
own  your  time  is  much  taken  up,  and  you  have  a  great 
many  different  things  to  do ;  but  remember  that  you  had 
much  better  do  half  of  them  well  and  leave  the  other  half 
undone,  than  do  them  all  indifferently.  Moreover,  the  few 
seconds  that  are  saved  in  the  course  of  the  day,  by  writing 
ill  instead  of  well,  do  not  amount  to  an  object  of  time  by 
any  means  equivalent  to  the  disgrace  or  ridicule  of  writing 
the  scrawl  of  a  common  whore.  Consider,  that  if  your 
very  bad  writing  could  furnish  me  with  matter  of  ridicule, 
what  will  it  not  do  to  others  who  do  not  view  you  in  that 
partial  light  that  I  do?  There  was  a  pope,  I  think  it  was 
Cardinal  Chigi,  who  was  justly  ridiculed  for  his  attention 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  375 

to  little  things,  and  his  inability  in  great  ones  :  and  there- 
fore called  maximus  in  minimis,  and  minimus  in  max- 
imis.  Why?  Because  he  attended  to  little  things  when 
he  had  great  ones  to  do.  At  this  particular  period  of  your 
life,  and  at  the  place  you  are  now  in,  you  have  only  little 
things  to  do ;  and  you  should  make  it  habitual  to  you  to  do 
them  well,  that  they  may  require  no  attention  from  you 
when  you  have,  as  I  hope  you  will  have,  greater  things  to 
mind.  Make  a  good  handwriting  familiar  to  you  now,  that 
you  may  hereafter  have  nothing  but  your  matter  to  think 
of,  when  you  have  occasion  to  write  to  kings  and  ministers. 
Dance,  dress,  present  yourself,  habitually  well  now,  that 
you  may  have  none  of  those  little  things  to  think  of  here- 
after, and  which  will  be  all  necessary  to  be  done  well  oc- 
casionally, when  you  will  have  greater  things  to  do. 

As  I  am  eternally  thinking  of  everything  that  can  be  rela- 
tive to  you,  one  thing  has  occurred  to  me,  which  I  think 
necessary  to  mention  to  you,  in  order  to  prevent  the  diffi- 
culties which  it  might  otherwise  lay  you  under ;  it  is  this  : 
as  you  get  more  acquaintances  at  Paris,  it  will  be  impossible 
for  you  to  frequent  your  first  acquaintances  so  much  as 
you  did,  while  you  had  no  others.  As,  for  example,  at 
your  first  debut,  I  suppose  you  were  chiefly  at  Madame 
Monconseil's,  Lady  Hervey's,  and  Madame  du  Boccage's. 
Now,  that  you  have  got  so  many  other  houses,  you  cannot 
be  at  theirs  so  often  as  you  used ;  but  pray  take  care  not 
to  give  them  the  least  reason  to  think  that  you  neglect  or 
despise  tnem,  for  the  sake  of  new  and  more  dignified  and 
shining  acquaintances ;  which  would  be  ungrateful  and  im- 
prudent on  your  part,  and  never  forgiven  on  theirs.  Call 
upon  them  often,  though  you  do  not  stay  with  them  so 
long  as  formerly;  tell  them  that  you  are  sorry  you  are 
obliged  to  go  away,  but  that  you  have  such  and  such  en- 
gagements, with  which  good-breeding  obliges  you  to  com- 
ply; and  insinuate  that  you  would  rather  stay  with  them. 
In  short,  take  care  to  make  as  many  personal  friends,  and 
as  few  personal  enemies,  as  possible.  I  do  not  mean,  by 
personal  friends,  intimate  and  confidential  friends,  of  which 
no  man  can  hope  to  have  half  a  dozen  in  the  whole  course 
of  his  life ;  but  I  mean  friends,  in  the  common  acceptation 
of  the  word;  that  is,  people  who  speak  well  of  you,  and 


376  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

who  would  rather  do  you  good  than  harm,  consistently  with 
their  own  interest,  and  no  further.  Upon  the  whole,  I 
recommend  to  you,  again  and  again,  les  Graces.  Adorned 
by  them,  you  may,  in  a  manner,  do  what  you  please ;  it 
will  be  approved  of;  without  them,  your  best  qualities  will 
lose  half  their  efficacy.  Endeavor  to  be  fashionable  among 
the  French,  which  will  soon  make  you  fashionable  here. 
Monsieur  de  Matignon  already  calls  you  le  petit  Francois. 
If  you  can  get  that  name  generally  at  Paris,  it  will  put 
you  &  la  mode.  AdHu,  my  dear  child. 


LETTER   CXXX 

LONDON,   February  4,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  The  accounts  which  I  receive  of  you 
from  Paris  grow  every  day  more  and  more  satis- 
factory. Lord  Albemarle  has  wrote  a  sort  of  pane- 
gyric of  you,  which  has  been  seen  by  many  people  here, 
and  which  will  be  a  very  useful  forerunner  for  you.  Being 
in  fashion  is  an  important  point  for  anybody  anywhere ; 
but  it  would  be  a  very  great  one  for  you  to  be  established 
in  the  fashion  here  before  you  return.  Your  business  will 
be  half  done  by  it,  as  I  am  sure  you  would  not  give  people 
reason  to  change  their  favorable  presentiments  of  you.  The 
good  that  is  said  of  you  will  not,  I  am  convinced,  make 
you  a  coxcomb ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  being  thought 
still  to  want  some  little  accomplishments,  will,  I  am  per- 
suaded, not  mortify  you,  but  only  animate  you  to  acquire 
them:  I  will,  therefore,  give  you  both  fairly,  in  the  follow- 
ing extract  of  a  letter  which  I  lately  received  from  an  im- 
partial and  discerning  friend: — 

(<  Permit  me  to  assure  you,  Sir,  that  Mr.  Stanhope  will 
succeed.  He  has  a  great  fund  of  knowledge,  and  an  un- 
commonly good  memory,  although  he  does  not  make  any 
parade  of  either  the  one  or  the  other.  He  is  desirous  of 
pleasing,  and  he  will  please.  He  has  an  expressive  coun- 
tenance ;  his  figure  is  elegant,  although  little.  He  has  not 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  377 

the  least  awkwardness,  though  he  has  not  as  yet  acquired 
all  the  graces  requisite ;  which  Marcel  and  the  ladies  will 
soon  give  him.  In  short,  he  wants  nothing  but  those  things, 
which,  at  his  age,  must  unavoidably  be  wanting;  I  mean, 
a  certain  turn  and  delicacy  of  manners,  which  are  to  be 
acquired  only  by  time,  and  in  good  company.  Ready  as 
he  is,  he  will  soon  learn  them;  particularly  as  he  frequents 
such  companies  as  are  the  most  proper  to  give  them.* 

By  this  extract,  which  I  can  assure  you  is  a  faithful  one, 
you  and  I  have  both  of  us  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
how  much  you  have,  and  how  little  you  want.  Let  what 
you  have  give  you  (if  possible)  rather  more  SEEMING 
modesty,  but  at  the  same  time  more  interior  firmness  and 
assurance;  and  let  what  you  want,  which  you  see  is  very 
attainable,  redouble  your  attention  and  endeavors  to  acquire 
it.  You  have,  in  truth,  but  that  one  thing  to  apply  to: 
and  a  very  pleasing  application  it  is,  since  it  is  through 
pleasures  you  must  arrive  at  it.  Company,  suppers,  balls, 
spectacles,  which  show  you  the  models  upon  which  you 
should  form  yourself,  and  all  the  little  usages,  customs,  and 
delicacies,  which  you  must  adopt  and  make  habitual  to 
you,  are  now  your  only  schools  and  universities ;  in  which 
young  fellows  and  fine  women  will  give  you  the  best 
lectures. 

Monsieur  du  Boccage  is  another  of  your  panegyrists ;  and 
he  tells  me  that  Madame  Boccage  a  pris  avec  vous  le  ton 
de  mie  et  de  bonne;  and  that  you  like  it  very  well.  You 
are  in  the  right  of  it ;  it  is  the  way  of  improving ;  en- 
deavor to  be  upon  that  footing  with  every  woman  you 
converse  with ;  excepting  where  there  may  be  a  tender 
point  of  connection ;  a  point  which  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with;  but  if  such  a  one  there  is,  I  hope  she  has  not  de 
mauvais  ni  de  vilains  bras,  which  I  agree  with  you  in 
thinking  a  very  disagreeable  thing. 

I  have  sent  you,  by  the  opportunity  of  Pollok  the  cou- 
rier, who  was  once  my  servant,  two  little  parcels  of  Greek 
and  English  books;  and  shall  send  you  two  more  by  Mr. 
Yorke:  but  I  accompany  them  with  this  caution,  that  as 
you  have  not  much  time  to  read,  you  should  employ  it  in 
reading  what  is  the  most  necessary,  and  that  is,  indisputably, 


378  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

modern  historical,  geographical,  chronological,  and  political 
knowledge;  the  present  constitution,  maxims,  force,  riches, 
trade,  commerce,  characters,  parties,  and  cabals  of  the  sev- 
eral courts  of  Europe.  Many  who  are  reckoned  good  schol- 
ars, though  they  know  pretty  accurately  the  governments 
of  Athens  and  Rome,  are  totally  ignorant  of  the  constitu- 
tion of  any  one  country  now  in  Europe,  even  of  their  own. 
Read  just  Latin  and  Greek  enough  to  keep  up  your  clas- 
sical learning,  which  will  be  an  ornament  to  you  while 
young,  and  a  comfort  to  you  when  old.  But  the  true  use- 
ful knowledge,  and  especially  for  you,  is  the  modern  knowl- 
edge above  mentioned.  It  is  that  must  qualify  you  both  for 
domestic  and  foreign  business,  and  it  is  to  that,  therefore, 
that  you  should  principally  direct  your  attention;  and  I 
know,  with  great  pleasure,  that  you  do  so.  I  would  not 
thus  commend  you  to  yourself,  if  I  thought  commendations 
would  have  upon  you  those  ill  effects,  which  they  frequently 
have  upon  weak  minds.  I  think  you  are  much  above  being 
a  vain  coxcomb,  overrating  your  own  merit,  and  insulting 
others  with  the  superabundance  of  it.  On  the  contrary,  I 
am  convinced  that  the  consciousness  of  merit  makes  a  man 
of  sense  more  modest,  though  more  firm.  A  man  who  dis- 
plays his  own  merit  is  a  coxcomb,  and  a  man  who  does 
not  know  it  is  a  fool.  A  man  of  sense  knows  it,  exerts  it, 
avails  himself  of  it,  but  never  boasts  of  it;  and  always  SEEMS 
rather  to  under  than  over  value  it,  though  in  truth,  he  sets 
the  right  value  upon  it.  It  is  a  very  true  maxim  of  La 
Bruy6re's  (an  author  well  worth  your  studying),  qu^on  ne 
vaut  dans  ce  monde,  que  ce  que  Von  veut  -valoir.  A  man  who 
is  really  diffident,  timid,  and  bashful,  be  his  merit  what  it 
will,  never  can  push  himself  in  the  world ;  his  despondency 
throws  him  into  inaction;  and  the  forward,  the  bustling, 
and  the  petulant,  will  always  get  the  better  of  him.  The 
manner  makes  the  whole  difference.  What  would  be  im- 
pudence in  one  manner,  is  only  a  proper  and  decent  as- 
surance in  another.  A  man  of  sense,  and  of  knowledge  in 
the  world,  will  assert  his  own  rights,  and  pursue  his  own 
objects,  as  steadily  and  intrepidly  as  the  most  impudent  man 
living,  and  commonly  more  so ;  but  then  he  has  art  enough 
to  give  an  outward  air  of  modesty  to  all  he  does.  This 
engages  and  prevails,  while  the  very  same  things  shock  and 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  379 

fail,  from  the  overbearing  or  impudent  manner  only  of  doing 
them.  I  repeat  my  maxim,  Suaviter  in  modo,  sed  Jortiter 
in  re.  Would  you  know  the  characters,  modes  and  man- 
ners of  the  latter  end  of  the  last  age,  which  are  very  like 
those  of  the  present,  read  La  Bruyere.  But  would  you 
know  man,  independently  of  modes,  read  La  Rochefoucault, 
who,  I  am  afraid,  paints  him  very  exactly. 

Give  the  inclosed  to  Abb6  Guasco,  of  whom  you  make 
good  use,  to  go  about  with  you,  and  see  things.  Between 
you  and  me,  he  has  more  knowledge  than  parts.  Mais  un 
habile  homme  suit  tirer  parti  de  tout,  and  everybody  is  good 
for  something.  President  Montesquieu  is,  in  every  sense, 
a  most  useful  acquaintance.  He  has  parts,  joined  to  great 
reading  and  knowledge  of  the  world.  Puisez  dans  cette 
source  tant  que  -vous  pourrez. 

Adieu.  May  the  Graces  attend  you !  for  without  them 
ogni  fatica  %  vana.  If  they  do  not  come  to  you  willingly, 
ravish  them,  and  force  them  to  accompany  you  in  all  you 
think,  all  you  say,  and  all  you  do. 


LETTER   CXXXI 

LONDON,  February  n,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  When  you  go  to  the  play,  which  I 
hope  you  do  often,  for  it  is  a  very  instructive  amuse- 
ment, you  must  certainly  have  observed  the  very  differ- 
ent effects  which  the  several  parts  have  upon  you,  according 
as  they  are  well  or  ill  acted.  The  very  best  tragedy  of  Cor- 
neille's,  if  well  spoken  and  acted,  interests,  engages,  agitates, 
and  affects  your  passions.  Love,  terror,  and  pity  alternately 
possess  you.  But,  if  ill  spoken  and  acted,  it  would  only 
excite  your  indignation  or  your  laughter.  Why?  It  is  still 
Corneille's ;  it  is  the  same  sense,  the  same  matter,  whether 
well  or  ill  acted.  It  is,  then,  merely  the  manner  of  speak- 
ing and  acting  that  makes  this  great  difference  in  the  ef- 
fects. Apply  this  to  yourself,  and  conclude  from  it,  that 
if  you  would  either  please  in  a  private  co'mpany,  or  persuade 
in  a  public  assembly,  air,  looks,  gestures,  graces,  enuncia- 


380  LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S 

tion,  proper  accents,  just  emphasis,  and  tuneful  cadences, 
are  full  as  necessary  as  the  matter  itself.  Let  awkward, 
ungraceful,  inelegant,  and  dull  fellows  say  what  they  will  in 
behalf  of  their  solid  matter  and  strong  reasonings ;  and  let 
them  despise  all  those  graces  and  ornaments  which  engage 
the  senses  and  captivate  the  heart ;  they  will  find  (though 
they  will  possibly  wonder  why)  that  their  rough,  unpol- 
ished matter,  and  their  unadorned,  coarse,  but  strong  argu- 
ments, will  neither  please  nor  persuade;  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, will  tire  out  attention,  and  excite  disgust.  We  are 
so  made,  we  love  to  be  pleased  better  than  to  be  informed ; 
information  is,  in  a  certain  degree,  mortifying,  as  it  im- 
plies our  previous  ignorance ;  it  must  be  sweetened  to  be 
palatable. 

To  bring  this  directly  to  you :  know  that  no  man  can 
make  a  figure  in  this  country,  but  by  parliament.  Your 
fate  depends  upon  your  success  there  as  a  speaker;  and, 
take  my  word  for  it,  that  success  turns  much  more  upon 
manner  than  matter.  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Murray  the  solicitor- 
general,  uncle  to  Lord  Stormount,  are,  beyond  compar- 
ison, the  best  speakers;  why?  only  because  they  are  the 
best  orators.  They  alone  can  inflame  or  quiet  the  House; 
they  alone  are  so  attended  to,  in  that  numerous  and  noisy 
assembly,  that  you  might  hear  a  pin  fall  while  either  of 
them  is  speaking.  Is  it  that  their  matter  is  better,  or  their 
arguments  stronger,  than  other  people's?  Does  the  House 
expect  extraordinary  informations  from  them  ?  Not  in  the 
least:  but  the  House  expects  pleasure  from  them,  and  there- 
fore attends ;  finds  it,  and  therefore  approves.  Mr.  Pitt, 
particularly,  has  very  little  parliamentary  knowledge ;  his 
matter  is  generally  flimsy,  and  his  arguments  often  weak ; 
but  his  eloquence  is  superior,  his  action  graceful,  his  enun- 
ciation just  and  harmonious ;  his  periods  are  well  turned, 
and  every  word  he  makes  use  of  is  the  very  best,  and  the 
most  expressive,  that  can  be  used  in  that  place.  This,  and 
not  his  matter,  made  him  Paymaster,  in  spite  of  both  king 
and  ministers.  From  this  draw  the  obvious  conclusion. 
The  same  thing  hdlds  full  as  true  in  conversation  ;  where 
even  trifles,  elegantly  expressed,  well  looked,  and  accom- 
panied with  graceful  action,  will  ever  please,  beyond  all  the 
homespun,  unadorned  sense  in  the  world.  Reflect,  on  one 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  381 

side,  how  you  feel  within  yourself,  while  you  are  forced  to 
suffer  the  tedious,  muddy,  and  ill-turned  narration  of  some 
awkward  fellow,  even  though  the  fact  may  be  interesting ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  with  what  pleasure  you  attend  to 
the  relation  of  a  much  less  interesting  matter,  when  ele- 
gantly expressed,  genteelly  turned,  and  gracefully  delivered. 
By  attending  carefully  to  all  these  agr^mens  in  your  daily 
conversation,  they  will  become  habitual  to  you,  before  you 
come  into  parliament ;  and  you  will  have  nothing  then  to 
do,  but  to  raise  them  a  little  when  you  come  there.  I 
would  wish  you  to  be  so  attentive  to  this  object,  that  I 
would  not  have  you  speak  to  your  footman,  but  in  the  very 
best  words  that  the  subject  admits  of,  be  the  language  what 
it  will.  Think  of  your  words,  and  of  their  arrangement, 
before  you  speak;  choose  the  most  elegant,  and  place  them 
in  the  best  order.  Consult  your  own  ear,  to  avoid  cacoph- 
ony, and,  what  is  very  near  as  bad,  monotony.  Think  also 
of  your  gesture  and  looks,  when  you  are  speaking  even 
upon  the  most  trifling  subjects.  The  same  things,  differ- 
ently expressed,  looked,  and  delivered,  cease  to  be  the  same 
things.  The  most  passionate  lover  in  the  world  cannot 
make  a  stronger  declaration  of  love  than  the  Bourgeois 
gentilhomme  does  in  this  happy  form  of  words,  Mourir 
cT  amour  me  font  belle  Marquise  vos  beaux  yeux.  I  defy 
anybody  to  say  more;  and  yet  I  would  advise  nobody  to 
say  that,  and  I  would  recommend  to  you  rather  to  smother 
and  conceal  your  passion  entirely  than  to  reveal  it  in  these 
words.  Seriously,  this  holds  in  everything,  as  well  as  in 
that  ludicrous  instance.  The  French,  to  do  them  justice, 
attend  very  minutely  to  the  purity,  the  correctness,  and  the 
elegance  of  their  style  in  conversation  and  in  their  letters. 
Bien  narrer  is  an  object  of  their  study;  and  though  they 
sometimes  carry  it  to  affectation,  they  never  sink  into  inele- 
gance, which  is  much  the  worst  extreme  of  the  two. 
Observe  them,  and  form  your  French  style  upon  theirs  :  for 
elegance  in  one  language  will  reproduce  itself  in  all.  I 
knew  a  young  man,  who,  being  just  elected  a  member  of 
parliament,  was  laughed  at  for  being  discovered,  through 
the  keyhole  of  his  chamber-door,  speaking  to  himself  in  the 
glass,  and  forming  his  looks  and  gestures.  I  could  not  join 
in  that  laugh ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  thought  him  much 


382  LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S 

wiser  than  those  who  laughed  at  him ;  for  he  knew  the 
importance  of  those  little  graces  in  a  public  assembly,  and 
they  did  not.  Your  little  person  (which  I  am  told,  by  the 
way,  is  not  ill  turned),  whether  in  a  laced  coat  or  a  blanket, 
is  specifically  the  same ;  but  yet,  I  believe,  you  choose  to 
wear  the  former,  and  you  are  in  the  right,  for  the  sake  of 
pleasing  more.  The  worst-bred  man  in  Europe,  if  a  lady 
let  fall  her  fan,  would  certainly  take  it  up  and  give  it  her ; 
the  best-bred  man  in  Europe  could  do  no  more.  The  dif- 
ference, however,  would  be  considerable ;  the  latter  would 
please  by  doing  it  gracefully ;  the  former  would  be  laughed 
at  for  doing  it  awkwardly.  I  repeat  it,  and  repeat  it  again, 
and  shall  never  cease  repeating  it  to  you :  air,  manners, 
graces,  style,  elegance,  and  all  those  ornaments,  must  now 
be  the  only  objects  of  your  attention ;  it  is  now,  or  never, 
that  you  must  acquire  them.  Postpone,  therefore,  all  other 
considerations;  make  them  now  your  serious  study;  you  have 
not  one  moment  to  lose.  The  solid  and  the  ornamental 
united,  are  undoubtedly  best ;  but  were  I  reduced  to  make 
an  option,  I  should  without  hesitation  choose  the  latter. 

I  hope  you  assiduously  frequent  Marcel,*  and  carry  graces 
from  him;  nobody  had  more  to  spare  than  he  had  formerly. 
Have  you  learned  to  carve?  for  it  is  ridiculous  not  to  carve 
well.  A  man  who  tells  you  gravely  that  he  cannot  carve, 
may  as  well  tell  you  that  he  cannot  blow  his  nose:  it  is 
both  as  necessary,  and  as  easy. 

Make  my  compliments  to  Lord  Huntingdon,  whom  I  love 
and  honor  extremely,  as  I  dare  say  you  do;  I  will  write  to 
him  soon,  though  I  believe  he  has  hardly  time  to  read  a 
letter ;  and  my  letters  to  those  I  love  are,  as  you  know  by 
experience,  not  very  short  ones:  this  is  one  proof  of  it,  and 
this  would  have  been  longer,  if  the  paper  had  been  so. 
Good  night  then,  my  dear  child. 

•At  that  time  the  most  celebrated  dancing-master  at  Paris. 


M 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  383 


LETTER   CXXXII 

LONDON,  February  28,  O.  S.  1751. 
Y  DEAR  FRIEND:    This  epigram  in  Martial  — 

<(  Non  amo  te,  Sabidi,  nee  possum  dicere  quare; 
Hoc  tantum  possum  dicere,  non  amo  te^  — 


has  puzzled  a  great  many  people,  who  cannot  conceive  how 
it  is  possible  not  to  love  anybody,  and  yet  not  to  know  the 
reason  why.  I  think  I  conceive  Martial's  meaning  very 
clearly,  though  the  nature  of  epigram,  which  is  to  be  short, 
would  not  allow  him  to  explain  it  more  fully ;  and  I  take 
it  to  be  this:  O  Sabidis,  you  are  a  very  worthy  deserving 
man;  you  have  a  thousand  good  qualities,  you  have  a  great 
deal  of  learning;  I  esteem,  I  respect,  but  for  the  soul  of 
me  I  cannot  love  you,  though  I  cannot  particularly  say 
why.  You  are  not  aimable:  you  have  not  those  engaging 
manners,  those  pleasing  attentions,  those  graces,  and  that 
address,  which  are  absolutely  necessary  to  please,  though 
impossible  to  define.  I  cannot  say  it  is  this  or  that  particu- 
lar thing  that  hinders  me  from  loving  you ;  it  is  the  whole 
together ;  and  upon  the  whole  you  are  not  agreeable. 

How  often  have  I,  in  the  course  of  my  life,  found  my- 
self in  this  situation,  with  regard  to  many  of  my  acquaintance, 
whom  I  have  honored  and  respected,  without  being  able  to 
love.  I  did  not  know  why,  because,  when  one  is  young, 
one  does  not  take  the  trouble,  nor  allow  one's  self  the  time, 
to  analyze  one's  sentiments  and  to  trace  them  up  to  their 
source.  But  subsequent  observation  and  reflection  have 
taught  me  why.  There  is  a  man,  whose  moral  character, 
deep  learning,  and  superior  parts,  I  acknowledge,  admire, 
and  respect;  but  whom  it  is  so  impossible  for  me  to  love, 
that  I  am  almost  in  a  fever  whenever  I  am  in  his  company. 
His  figure  (without  being  deformed)  seems  made  to  disgrace 
or  ridicule  the  common  structure  of  the  human  body.  His 
legs  and  arms  are  never  in  the  position  which,  according 
to  the  situation  of  his  body,  they  ought  to  be  in,  but  con- 
stantly employed  in  committing  acts  of  hostility  upon  the 
Graces.  He  throws  anywhere,  but  down  his  throat,  whatever 


384  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

he  means  to  drink,  and  only  mangles  what  he  means  to 
carve.  Inattentive  to  all  the  regards  of  social  life,  he  mis- 
times or  misplaces  everything.  He  disputes  with  heat,  and 
indiscriminately,  mindless  of  the  rank,  character,  and  situation 
of  those  with  whom  he  disputes ;  absolutely  ignorant  of  the 
several  gradations  of  familiarity  or  respect,  he  is  exactly  the 
same  to  his  superiors,  his  equals,  and  his  inferiors ;  and  there- 
fore, by  a  necessary  consequence,  absurd  to  two  of  the 
three.  Is  it  possible  to  love  such  a  man?  No.  The  ut- 
most I  can  do  for  him,  is  to  consider  him  as  a  respectable 
Hottentot.* 

I  remember,  that  when  I  came  from  Cambridge,  I  had 
acquired,  among  the  pedants  of  that  illiberal  seminary,  a 
sauciness  of  literature,  a  turn  to  satire  and  contempt,  and  a 
strong  tendency  to  argumentation  and  contradiction.  But  I 
had  been  but  a  very  little  while  in  the  world,  before  I 
found  that  this  would  by  no  means  do ;  and  I  immediately 
adopted  the  opposite  character ;  I  concealed  what  learning 
I  had ;  I  applauded  often,  without  approving ;  and  I 
yielded  commonly  without  conviction.  Suaviter  in  modo 
was  my  law  and  my  prophets;  and  if  I  pleased  (between 
you  and  me)  it  was  much  more  owing  to  that,  than  to 
any  superior  knowledge  or  merit  of  my  own.  A  propos, 
the  word  PLEASING  puts  one  always  in  mind  of  Lady 
Hervey;  pray  tell  her,  that  I  declare  her  responsible  to  me 
for  your  pleasing;  that  I  consider  her  as  a  pleasing  Falstaff, 
who  not  only  pleases,  herself,  but  is  the  cause  of  pleasing 
in  others;  that  I  know  she  can  make  anything  of  anybody; 
and  that,  as  your  governess,  if  she  does  not  make  you 
please,  it  must  be  only  because  she  will  not,  and  not  because 
she  cannot.  I  hope  you  are  dubois  dont  on  en  fait;  and  if 
so,  she  is  so  good  a  sculptor,  that  I  am  sure  she  can  give 
you  whatever  form  she  pleases.  A  versatility  of  manners 
is  as  necessary  in  social,  as  a  versatility  of  parts  is  in 
political  life.  One  must  often  yield,  in  order  to  prevail; 
one  must  humble  one's  self,  to  be  exalted ;  one  must,  like 
St.  Paul,  become  all  things  to  all  men,  to  gain  some ;  and, 
by  the  way,  men  are  taken  by  the  same  means,  mutatis 
mutandis^  that  women  are  gained  —  by  gentleness,  insinuation, 

*This  *not  was  aimed  at  Dr.  Johnson  in  retaliation  for  his  famous 
letter. 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  385 

and   submission:    and  these    lines   of   Mr.   Dryden  will   hold 
to  a  minister  as  well  as  to  a  mistress  :  — 

(<The  prostrate  lover,  when  he  lowest  lies, 
But  stoops  to  conquer,  and  but  kneels  to  rise.8 

In  the  course  of  the  world,  the  qualifications  of  the  chameleon 
are  often  necessary;  nay,  they  must  be  carried  a  little 
further,  and  exerted  a  little  sooner;  for  you  should,  to  a 
certain  degree,  take  the  hue  of  either  the  man  or  the 
woman  that  you  want,  and  wish  to  be  upon  terms  with.  A 
propos,  have  you  yet  found  out  at  Paris,  any  friendly  and 
hospitable  Madame  de  Lursay,  qui  -veut  bien  se  charger  du 
soin  de  vous  tduquer?  And  have  you  had  any  occasion  of 
representing  to  her,  qu'elle  faisoit  done  des  nceuds?  But  I 
ask  your  pardon,  Sir,  for  the  abruptness  of  the  question, 
and  acknowledge  that  I  am  meddling  with  matters  that  are  out 
of  my  department.  However,  in  matters  of  less  importance,  I 
desire  to  be  de  vos  secrets  le  fiddle  ddpositaire.  Trust  me 
with  the  general  turn  and  color  of  your  amusements  at 
Paris.  Is  it  le  Jracas  du  grand  monde,  comedies,  bals, 
operas,  cour,  etc.?  Or  is  it  des  petites  soci£t6s,  mains  bruy- 
antes,  mats  pas  pour  cela  moins  agr£ables?  Where  are  you 
the  most  ^tabli?  Where  are  you  le  petit  Stanhope?  Voyez- 
vous  encore  jour,  d,  quelque  arrangement  honn&te?  Have  you 
made  many  acquaintances  among  the  young  Frenchmen 
who  ride  at  your  Academy;  and  who  are  they?  Send  to 
me  this  sort  of  chit-chat  in  your  letters,  which,  by  the 
bye,  I  wish  you  would  honor  me  with  somewhat  oftener. 
If  you  frequent  any  of  the  myriads  of  polite  Englishmen 
who  infest  Paris,  who  are  they?  Have  you  finished  with 
Abb6  Nol6t,  and  are  you  au  fait  of  all  the  properties  and 
effects  of  air?  Were  I  inclined  to  quibble,  I  would  say, 
that  the  effects  of  air,  at  least,  are  best  to  be  learned  of 
Marcel.  If  you  have  quite  done  with  l'Abb6  Nolet,  ask 
my  friend  l'Abb6  Sallier  to  recommend  to  you  some 
meagre  philomath,  to  teach  you  a  little  geometry  and 
astronomy;  not  enough  to  absorb  your  attention  and  puzzle 
your  intellects,  but  only  enough  not  to  be  grossly  ignorant 
of  either.  I  have  of  late  been  a  sort  of  astronome  malgrd 
moi,  by  bringing  in  last  Monday  into  the  House  of  Lords 
a  bill  for  reforming  our  present  Calendar  and  taking  the 
25 


386  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

New  Style.  Upon  which  occasion  I  was  obliged  to  talk 
some  astronomical  jargon,  of  which  I  did  not  understand 
one  word,  but  got  it  by  heart,  and  spoke  it  by  rote  from 
a  master.  I  wished  that  I  had  known  a  little  more  of  it 
myself;  and  so  much  I  would  have  you  know.  But  the 
great  and  necessary  knowledge  of  all  is,  to  know  yourself 
and  others:  this  knowledge  requires  great  attention  and 
long  experience ;  exert  the  former,  and  may  you  have  the 
latter !  Adieu ! 

P.  S.  I  have  this  moment  received  your  letters  of  the 
27th  February,  and  the  2d  March,  N.  S.  The  seal  shall 
be  done  as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  glad  that  you  are  em- 
ployed in  Lord  Albemarle's  bureau;  it  will  teach  you, 
at  least,  the  mechanical  part  of  that  business,  such  as  fold- 
ing, entering,  and  docketing  letters ;  for  you  must  not 
imagine  that  you  are  let  into  the  Jin  Jin  of  the  correspondence, 
nor  indeed  is  it  fit  that  you  should,  at  your  age.  However, 
use  yourself  to  secrecy  as  to  the  letters  you  either  read  or 
write,  that  in  time  you  may  be  trusted  with  SECRET,  VERY 
SECRET,  SEPARATE,  APART,  etc.  I  am  sorry  that  this 
business  interferes  with  your  riding;  I  hope  it  is  seldom; 
but  I  insist  upon  its  not  interfering  with  your  dancing- 
master,  who  is  at  this  time  the  most  useful  and  necessary 
of  all  the  masters  you  have  or  can  have. 


LETTER   CXXXIII 

MY  DEAR  FRIEISTD:  I  mentioned  to  you,  some  time  ago, 
a  sentence  which  I  would  most    earnestly    wish   you 
always  to  retain    in   your    thoughts,    and   observe    in 
your  conduct.     It  is  suaviter  in  modo,  Jortiter  in  re.     I  do 
not    know    any    one     rule    so    unexceptionably    useful    and 
necessary  in  every  part  of  life.     I  shall  therefore  take  it  for 
my  text  to-day,  and  as  old  men  love  preaching,  and  I  have 
some  right  to  preach  to  you,  I  here   present    you    with    my 
sermon  upon  these  words.     To  proceed,  then,  regularly  and 
PULPITICALLY,  I  will  first  show  you,  my  beloved,  the  neces- 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  387 

sary  connection  of  the  two  members  of  my  text  suamter 
in  modo:  fortiter  in  re.  In  the  next  place,  I  shall  set  forth 
the  advantages  and  utility  resulting  from  a  strict  observance 
of  the  precept  contained  in  my  text ;  and  conclude  with 
an  application  of  the  whole.  The  suamter  in  modo  alone 
would  degenerate  and  sink  into  a  mean,  timid  complai- 
sance and  passiveness,  if  not  supported  and  dignified  by 
the  fortiter  in  re,  which  would  also  run  into  impetuosity 
and  brutality,  if  not  tempered  and  softened  by  the  suamter 
in  modo:  however,  they  are  seldom  united.  The  warm, 
choleric  man,  with  strong  animal  spirits,  despises  the  sua- 
mter in  modo,  and  thinks  to  carry  all  before  him  by  the 
fortiter  in  re.  He  may,  possibly,  by  great  accident,  now 
and  then  succeed,  when  he  has  only  weak  and  timid  people 
to  deal  with ;  but  his  general  fate  will  be,  to  shock  offend, 
be  hated,  and  fail.  On  the  other  hand,  the  cunning,  crafty 
man  thinks  to  gain  all  his  ends  by  the  suamter  in  modo 
only;  HE  BECOMES  ALL  THINGS  TO  ALL  MEN;  he  seems  to 
have  no  opinion  of  his  own,  and  servilely  adopts  the  pres- 
ent opinion  of  the  present  person;  he  insinuates  himself 
only  into  the  esteem  of  fools,  but  is  soon  detected,  and 
surely  despised  by  everybody  else.  The  wise  man  (who 
differs  as  much  from  the  cunning,  as  from  the  choleric 
man)  alone  joins  the  suamter  in  modo  with  the  fortiter  in. 
re.  Now  to  the  advantages  arising  from  the  strict  observ- 
ance of  this  precept :  — 

If  you  are  in  authority,  and  have  a  right  to  command,  your 
commands  delivered  suamter  in  mudo  will  be  willingly, 
cheerfully,  and  consequently  well  obeyed ;  whereas,  if  given 
only  fortiter,  that  is  brutally,  they  will  rather,  as  Tacitus 
says,  be  interrupted  than  executed.  For  my  own  part,  if  I 
bid  my  footman  bring  me  a  glass  of  wine,  in  a  rough  in- 
sulting manner,  I  should  expect  that,  in  obeying  me,  he 
would  contrive  to  spill  some  of  it  upon  me  :  and  I  am  sure 
I  should  deserve  it.  A  cool,  steady  resolution  should  show 
that  where  you  have  a  right  to  command  you  will  be 
obeyed ;  but  at  the  same  time,  a  gentleness  in  the  manner 
of  enforcing  that  obedience  should  make  it  a  cheerful  one, 
and  soften  as  much  as  possible  the  mortifying  conscious- 
ness of  inferiority.  If  you  are  to  ask  a  favor,  or  even  to 
solicit  your  due,  you  must  do  it  suamter  in  modo,  or  you 


388  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

will  give  those  who  have  a  mind  to  refuse  you,  either  a 
pretense  to  do  it,  by  resenting  the  manner ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  must,  by  a  steady  perseverance  and  decent 
tenaciousness,  show  the  fortiter  in  re.  The  right  motives 
are  seldom  the  true  ones  of  men's  actions,  especially  of 
kings,  ministers,  and  people  in  high  stations ;  who  often 
give  to  importunity  and  fear,  what  they  would  refuse  to 
justice  or  to  merit.  By  the  suamter  in  modo  engage  their 
hearts,  if  you  can  ;  at  least  prevent  the  pretense  of  offense  : 
but  take  care  to  show  enough  of  the  fortiter  in  re  to 
extort  from  their  love  of  ease,  or  their  fear,  what  you 
might  in  vain  hope  for  from  their  justice  or  good-nature. 
People  in  high  life  are  hardened  to  the  wants  and  distresses 
of  mankind,  as  surgeons  are  to  their  bodily  pains ;  they  see 
and  hear  of  them  all  day  long,  and  even  of  so  many  simu- 
lated ones,  that  they  do  not  know  which  are  real,  and 
which  not.  Other  sentiments  are  therefore  to  be  applied  to, 
than  those  of  mere  justice  and  humanity  ;  their  favor  must  be 
captivated  by  the  suamter  in  modo;  their  love  of  ease  dis- 
turbed by  unwearied  importunity,  or  their  fears  wrought 
upon  by  a  decent  intimation  of  implacable,  cool  resentment; 
this  is  the  true  fortiter  in  re.  This  precept  is  the  only 
way  I  know  in  the  world  of  being  loved  without  being  de- 
spised, and  feared  without  being  hated.  It  constitutes  the 
dignity  of  character  which  every  wise  man  must  endeavor 
to  establish. 

Now  to  apply  what  has  been  said,  and  so  conclude. 

If  you  find  that  you  have  a  hastiness  in  your  temper, 
which  unguardedly  breaks  out  into  indiscreet  sallies,  or  rough 
expressions,  to  either  your  superiors,  your  equals,  or  your 
inferiors,  watch  it  narrowly,  check  it  carefully,  and  call  the 
suamter  in  modo  to  your  assistance  :  at  the  first  impulse  of 
passion,  be  silent  till  you  can  be  soft.  Labor  even  to  get 
the  command  of  your  countenance  so  well,  that  those  emo- 
tions may  not  be  read  in  it ;  a  most  unspeakable  advantage 
in  business!  On  the  other  hand,  let  no  complaisance,  no 
gentleness  of  temper,  no  weak  desire  of  pleasing  on  your 
part, —  no  wheedling,  coaxing,  nor  flattery,  on  other  people's, 
—  make  you  recede  one  jot  from  any  point  that  reason  and 
prudence  have  bid  you  pursue  ;  but  return  to  the  charge, 
persist,  persevere,  and  you  will  find  most  things  attainable 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  389 

that  are  possible.  A  yielding,  timid  meekness  is  always 
abused  and  insulted  by  the  unjust  and  the  unfeeling  ;  but 
when  sustained  by  the  fortiter  in  re,  is  always  respected, 
commonly  successful.  In  your  friendships  and  connections, 
as  well  as  in  your  enmities,  this  rule  is  particularly  useful ; 
let  your  firmness  and  vigor  preserve  and  invite  attachments 
to  you  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  let  your  manner  hinder  the 
enemies  of  your  friends  and  dependents  from  becoming 
yours  ;  let  your  enemies  be  disarmed  by  the  gentleness  of 
your  manner,  but  let  them  feel,  at  the  same  time,  the 
steadiness  of  your  just  resentment  ;  for  there  is  a  great  dif- 
ference between  bearing  malice,  which  is  always  ungener- 
ous, and  a  resolute  self-defense,  which  is  always  prudent 
and  justifiable.  In  negotiations  with  foreign  ministers,  re- 
member the  fortiter  in  re;  give  up  no  point,  accept  of  no 
expedient,  till  the  utmost  necessity  reduces  you  to  it,  and 
even  then,  dispute  the  ground  inch  by  inch  ;  but  then,  while 
you  are  contending  with  the  minister  fortiter  in  re,  re- 
member to  gain  the  man  by  the  suaviter  in  modo.  If  you 
engage  his  heart,  you  have  a  fair  chance  for  imposing  upon 
his  understanding,  and  determining  his  will.  Tell  him,  in 
a  frank,  gallant  manner,  that  your  ministerial  wrangles  do 
not  lessen  your  personal  regard  for  his  merit  ;  but  that,  on 
the  contrary,  his  zeal  and  ability  in  the  service  of  his  mas- 
ter, increase  it ;  and  that,  of  all  things,  you  desire  to  make 
a  good  friend  of  so  good  a  servant.  By  these  means  you 
may,  and  will  very  often  be  a  gainer:  you  never  can  be  a 
loser.  Some  people  cannot  gain  upon  themselves  to  be  easy 
and  civil  to  those  who  are  either  their  rivals,  competitors, 
or  opposers,  though,  independently  of  those  accidental  cir- 
cumstances, they  would  like  and  esteem  them.  They  betray 
a  shyness  and  an  awkwardness  in  company  with  them,  and 
catch  at  any  little  thing  to  expose  them  ;  and  so,  from 
temporary  and  only  occasional  opponents,  make  them  their 
personal  enemies.  This  is  exceedingly  weak  and  detri- 
mental, as  indeed  is  all  humor  in  business  ;  which  can  only 
be  carried  on  successfully  by  unadulterated  good  policy  and 
right  reasoning.  In  such  situations  I  would  be  more  partic- 
ularly and  noblement,  civil,  easy,  and  frank  with  the  man 
whose  designs  I  traversed:  this  is  commonly  called  generos- 
ity and  magnanimity,  but  is,  in  truth,  good  sense  and  pol- 


390  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

icy.  The  manner  is  often  as  important  as  the  matter, 
sometimes  more  so  ;  a  favor  may  make  an  enemy,  and  an 
injury  may  make  a  friend,  aecording  to  the  different  manner 
in  which  they  are  severally  done.  The  countenance,  the  ad- 
dress, the  words,  the  enunciation,  the  Graces,  add  great 
efficacy  to  the  suamter  in  modo,  and  great  dignity  to  the 
fortiter  in  re,  and  consequently  they  deserve  the  utmost 
attention. 

From  what  has  been  said,  I  conclude  with  this  observa- 
tion, that  gentleness  of  manners,  with  firmness  of  mind,  is 
a  short,  but  full  description  of  human  perfection  on  this 
side  of  religious  and  moral  duties.  That  you  may  be  seri- 
ously convinced  of  this  truth,  and  show  it  in  your  life  and 
conversation,  is  the  most  sincere  and  ardent  wish  of,  Yours. 


LETTER   CXXXIV 

LONDON,  March  n,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  received  by  the  last  post  a  letter 
from  Abbe"  Guasco,  in  which  he  joins  his  represen- 
tations to  those  of  Lord  Albemarle,  against  your  re- 
maining any  longer  in  your  very  bad  lodgings  at  the 
Academy ;  and,  as  I  do  not  find  that  any  advantage  can  arise 
to  you  from  being  interne  in  an  academy  which  is  full  as  far 
from  the  riding-house  and  from  all  your  other  masters,  as  your 
lodgings  will  probably  be,  I  agree  to  your  removing  to  an 
hdtel  garni ;  the  Abb6  will  help  you  to  find  one,  as  I  de- 
sire him  by  the  inclosed,  which  you  will  give  him.  I  must, 
however,  annex  one  condition  to  your  going  into  private 
lodgings,  which  is  an  absolute  exclusion  of  English  break- 
fasts and  suppers  at  them ;  the  former  consume  the  whole 
morning,  and  the  latter  employ  the  evenings  very  ill,  in 
senseless  toasting  a  V Angloise  in  their  infernal  claret.  You 
will  be  sure  to  go  to  the  riding-house  as  often  as  pos- 
sible, that  is,  whenever  your  new  business  at  Lord  Al- 
bemarle's  does  not  hinder  you.  But,  at  all  events,  I  insist 
upon  your  never  missing  Marcel,  who  is  at  present  of  more 
consequence  to  you  than  all  the  bureaux  in  Europe ;  for 
this  is  the  time  for  you  to  acquire  tous  ces  petits  riens^ 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  391 

which,  though  in  an  arithmetical  account,  added  to  one 
another  ad  infinitum,  they  would  amount  to  nothing,  in  the 
account  of  the  world  amount  to  a  great  and  important  sum. 
Les  agrtmens  et  les  graces,  without  which  you  will  never 
be  anything,  are  absolutely  made  up  of  all  those  riens, 
which  are  more  easily  felt  than  described.  By  the  way, 
you  may  take  your  lodgings  for  one  whole  year  certain,  by 
which  means  you  may  get  them  much  cheaper;  for  though 
I  intend  to  see  you  here  in  less  than  a  year,  it  will  be  but 
for  a  little  time,  and  you  will  return  to  Paris  again,  where 
I  intend  you  shall  stay  till  the  end  of  April  twelvemonth, 
1752,  at  which  time,  provided  you  have  got  all  la  politesse, 
les  manures,  les  attentions*  et  les  graces  du  beau  monde,  I 
shall  place  you  in  some  business  suitable  to  your  destination. 

I  have  received,  at  last,  your  present  of  the  cartoon,  from 
Dominichino,  by  Planch^t.  It  is  very  finely  done ;  it  is 
pity  that  he  did  not  take  in  all  the  figures  of  the  original. 
I  will  hang  it  up,  where  it  shall  be  your  own  again  some 
time  or  other 

Mr.  Harte  is  returned  in  perfect  health  from  Cornwall, 
and  has  taken  possession  of  his  prebendal  house  at  Wind- 
sor, which  is  a  very  pretty  one.  As  I  dare  say  you  will 
always  feel,  I  hope  you  will  always  express,  the  strong- 
est sentiments  of  gratitude  and  friendship  for  him.  Write 
to  him  frequently,  and  attend  to  the  letters  you  receive 
from  him.  He  shall  be  with  us  at  Blackheath,  alias  BABI- 
OLB,  all  the  time  that  I  propose  you  shall  be  there,  which 
I  believe  will  be  the  month  of  August  next. 

Having  thus  mentioned  to  you  the  probable  time  of  our 
meeting,  I  will  prepare  you  a  little  for  it.  Hatred,  jeal- 
ousy, or  envy,  make  most  people  attentive  to  discover  the 
least  defects  of  those  they  do  not  love ;  they  rejoice  at  every 
new  discovery  they  make  of  that  kind,  and  take  care  to 
publish  it.  I  thank  God,  I  do  not  know  what  those  three 
ungenerous  passions  are,  having  never  felt  them  in  my  own 
breast ;  but  love  has  just  the  same  effect  upon  me,  except 
that  I  conceal,  instead  of  publishing,  the  defects  which  my 
attention  makes  me  discover  in  those  I  love.  I  curiously 
pry  into  them ;  I  analyze  them ;  and,  wishing  either  to  find 
them  perfect,  or  to  make  them  so,  nothing  escapes  me,  and 
I  soon  discover  every  the  least  gradation  toward  or  from 


392  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

that  perfection.  You  must  therefore  expect  the  most  critical 
examen  that  ever  anybody  underwent.  I  shall  discover  your 
least,  as  well  as  your  greatest  defects,  and  I  shall  very 
freely  tell  you  of  them,  Non  quod  odio  habeam  sed  quod 
amem.  But  I  shall  tell  them  you  tete-a-tete,  and  as  MICIO 
not  as  DEMEA/  and  I  will  tell  them  to  nobody  else.  I 
think  it  but  fair  to  inform  you  beforehand,  where  I  suspect 
that  my  criticisms  are  likely  to  fall;  and  that  is  more  upon 
the  outward,  than  upon  the  inward  man  ;  I  neither  suspect 
your  heart  nor  your  head ;  but  to  be  plain  with  you,  I  have 
a  strange  distrust  of  your  air,  your  address,  your  manners, 
your  tournure,  and  particularly  of  your  ENUNCIATION  and 
elegance  of  style.  These  will  be  all  put  to  the  trial ;  for 
while  you  are  with  me,  you  must  do  the  honors  of  my 
house  and  table ;  the  least  inaccuracy  or  inelegance  will  not 
escape  me ;  as  you  will  find  by  a  LOOK  at  the  time,  and  by 
a  remonstrance  afterward  when  we  are  alone.  You  will  see 
a  great  deal  of  company  of  all  sorts  at  BABIOLE,  and  par- 
ticularly foreigners.  Make,  therefore,  in  the  meantime,  all 
these  exterior  and  ornamental  qualifications  your  peculiar 
care,  and  disappoint  all  my  imaginary  schemes  of  criticism. 
Some  authors  have  criticised  their  own  works  first,  in  hopes 
of  hindering  others  from  doing  it  afterward  :  but  then  they 
do  it  themselves  with  so  much  tenderness  and  partiality  for 
their  own  production,  that  not  only  the  production  itself, 
but  the  preventive  criticism  is  criticised.  I  am  not  one  of 
those  authors ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  my  severity  increases 
with  my  fondness  for  my  work ;  and  if  you  will  but  effec- 
tually correct  all  the  faults  I  shall  find,  I  will  insure  you 
from  all  subsequent  criticisms  from  other  quarters. 

Are  you  got  a  little  into  the  interior,  into  the  constitu- 
tion of  things  at  Paris?  Have  you  seen  what  you  have 
seen  thoroughly?  For,  by  the  way,  few  people  see  what 
they  see,  or  hear  what  they  hear.  For  example,  if 
you  go  to  les  Invalides,  do  you  content  yourself  with 
seeing  the  building,  the  hall  where  three  or  four  hun- 
dred cripples  dine,  and  the  galleries  where  they  lie?  or  do 
you  inform  yourself  of  the  numbers,  the  conditions  of  their 
admission,  their  allowance,  the  value  and  nature  of  the 
fund  by  which  the  whole  is  supported?  This  latter  I  call 
seeing,  the  former  is  only  starting.  Many  people  take  the 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  393 

opportunity  of  les  vacances,  to  go  and  see  the  empty 
rooms  where  the  several  chambers  of  the  parliament  did 
sit ;  which  rooms  are  exceedingly  like  all  other  large  rooms ; 
when  you  go  there,  let  it  be  when  they  are  full ;  see  and 
hear  what  is  doing  in  them ;  learn  their  respective  consti- 
tutions, jurisdictions,  objects,  and  methods  of  proceeding ; 
hear  some  causes  tried  in  every  one  of  the  different  cham- 
bers ;  Approfondissez  les  choses. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  so  well  at  Marquis  de 
St.  Germain's,*  of  whom  I  hear  a  very  good  character. 
How  are  you  with  the  other  foreign  ministers  at  Paris?  Do 
you  frequent  the  Dutch  Ambassador  or  Ambassadress? 
Have  you  any  footing  at  the  Nuncio's,  or  at  the  Imperial 
and  Spanish  ambassadors?  It  is  useful.  Be  more  particu- 
lar in  your  letters  to  me,  as  to  your  manner  of  passing 
your  time,  and  the  company  you  keep.  Where  do  you 
dine  and  sup  oftenest?  whose  house  is  most  your  home? 
Adieu.  Les  Graces,  les  Graces. 


LETTER  CXXXV 

LONDON,  March  18,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  acquainted  you  in  a  former  letter, 
that  I  had  brought  a  bill  into  the  House  of  Lords 
for  correcting  and  reforming  our  present  calendar, 
which  is  the  Julian,  and  for  adopting  the  Gregorian.  I 
will  now  give  you  a  more  particular  account  of  that  affair; 
from  which  reflections  will  naturally  occur  to  you  that  I 
hope  may  be  useful,  and  which  I  fear  you  have  not  made. 
It  was  notorious,  that  the  Julian  calendar  was  erroneous, 
and  had  overcharged  the  solar  year  with  eleven  days. 
Pope  Gregory  the  Thirteenth  corrected  this  error;  his  re- 
formed calendar  was  immediately  received  by  all  the  Catho- 
lic powers  of  Europe,  and  afterward  adopted  by  all  the 
Protestant  ones,  except  Russia,  Sweden,  and  England.  It 
was  not,  in  my  opinion,  very  honorable  for  England  to 
remain  in  a  gross  and  avowed  error,  especially  in  such 

*At  that  time  Ambassador  from  the  King  of  Sardinia  at  the  Court 
of  France. 


394  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

company;  the  inconveniency  of  it  was  likewise  felt  by  all 
those. who  had  foreign  correspondences,  whether  political 
or  mercantile.  I  determined,  therefore,  to  attempt  the  ref- 
ormation ;  I  consulted  the  best  lawyers  and  the  most  skill- 
ful astronomers,  and  we  cooked  up  a  bill  for  that  purpose. 
But  then  my  difficulty  began  :  I  was  to  bring  in  this  bill, 
which  was  necessarily  composed  of  law  jargon  and  astro- 
nomical calculations,  to  both  which  I  am  an  utter  stranger. 
However,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  make  the  House 
of  Lords  think  that  I  knew  something  of  the  matter ;  and 
also  to  make  them  believe  that  they  knew  something  of  it 
themselves,  which  they  do  not.  For  my  own  part,  I 
could  just  as  soon  have  talked  Celtic  or  Sclavonian  to 
them  as  astronomy,  and  they  would  have  understood  me 
full  as  well:  so  I  resolved  to  do  better  than  speak  to  the 
purpose,  and  to  please  instead  of  informing  them.  I  gave 
them,  therefore,  only  an  historical  account  of  calendars, 
from  the  Egyptian  down  to  the  Gregorian,  amusing  them 
now  and  then  with  little  episodes ;  but  I  was  particularly 
attentive  to  the  choice  of  my  words,  to  the  harmony  and 
roundness  of  my  periods,  to  my  elocution,  to  my  action. 
This  succeeded,  and  ever  will  succeed ;  they  thought  I  in- 
formed, because  I  pleased  them;  and  many  of  them  said 
that  I  had  made  the  whole  very  clear  to  them ;  when,  God 
knows,  I  had  not  even  attempted  it.  Lord  Macclesfield, 
who  had  the  greatest  share  in  forming  the  bill,  and  who 
is  one  of  the  greatest  mathematicians  and  astronomers  in 
Europe,  spoke  afterward  with  infinite  knowledge,  and 
all  the  clearness  that  so  intricate  a  matter  would  admit 
of :  but  as  his  words,  his  periods,  and  his  utterance, 
were  not  near  so  good  as  mine,  the  preference  was 
most  unanimously,  though  most  unjustly,  given  to  me. 
This  will  ever  be  the  case ;  every  numerous  assembly  is 
MOB,  let  the  individuals  who  compose  it  be  what  they 
will.  Mere  reason  and  good  sense  is  never  to  be  talked 
to  a  mob;  their  passions,  their  sentiments,  their  senses,  and 
their  seeming  interests,  are  alone  to  be  applied  to.  Under- 
standing they  have  collectively  none,  but  they  have  ears 
and  eyes,  which  must  be  flattered  and  seduced;  and  this 
can  only  be  done  by  eloquence,  tuneful  periods,  graceful 
action,  and  all  the  various  parts  of  oratory. 


LETTERS  TO    HIS  SON  395 

When  you  come  into  the  House  of  Commons,  if  you 
imagine  that  speaking  plain  and  unadorned  sense  and 
reason  will  do  your  business,  you  will  find  yourself  most 
grossly  mistaken.  As  a  speaker,  you  will  be  ranked  only 
according  to  your  eloquence,  and  by  no  means  according 
to  your  matter;  everybody  knows  the  matter  almost  alike, 
but  few  can  adorn  it.  I  was  early  convinced  of  the  im- 
portance and  powers  of  eloquence;  and  from  that  moment 
I  applied  myself  to  it.  I  resolved  not  to  utter  one  word, 
even  in  common  conversation,  that  should  not  be  the  most 
expressive  and  the  most  elegant  that  the  language  could 
supply  me  with  for  that  purpose ;  by  which  means  I  have  ac- 
quired such  a  certain  degree  of  habitual  eloquence,  that  I 
must  now  really  take  some  pains,  if  I  would  express  my- 
self very  inelegantly.  I  want  to  inculcate  this  known  truth 
into  you,  which  you  seem  by  no  means  to  be  convinced  of 
yet,  that  ornaments  are  at  present  your  only  objects.  Your 
sole  business  now  is  to  shine,  not  to  weigh.  Weight 
without  lustre  is  lead.  You  had  better  talk  trifles 
elegantly  to  the  most  trifling  woman,  than  coarse  in- 
elegant sense  to  the  most  solid  man;  you  had  better 
return  a  dropped  fan  genteelly,  than  give  a  thousand 
pounds  awkwardly;  and  you  had  better  refuse  a  favor 
gracefully,  than  to  grant  it  clumsily.  Manner  is  all,  in 
everything:  it  is  by  manner  only  that  you  can  please,  and 
consequently  rise.  All  your  Greek  will  never  advance  you 
from  secretary  to  envoy,  or  from  envoy  to  ambassador;  but 
your  address,  your  manner,  your  air,  if  good,  very  probably 
may.  Marcel  can  be  of  much  more  use  to  you  than  Aristotle. 
I  would,  upon  my  word,  much  rather  that  you  had  Lord 
Bolingbroke's  style  and  eloquence  in  speaking  and  writing, 
than  all  the  learning  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences,  the 
Royal  Society,  and  the  two  Universities  united. 

Having  mentioned  Lord  Bolingbroke's  style,  which  is, 
undoubtedly,  infinitely  superior  to  anybody's,  I  would 
have  you  read  his  works,  which  you  have,  over  and  over 
again,  with  particular  attention  to  his  style.  Transcribe, 
imitate,  emulate  it,  if  possible  :  that  would  be  of  real  use 
to  you  in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  negotiations,  in  con- 
versation ;  with  that,  you  may  justly  hope  to  please,  to 
persuade,  to  seduce,  to  impose;  and  you  will  fail  in  those 


396  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

articles,  in  proportion  as  you  fall  short  of  it.  Upon  the 
whole,  lay  aside,  during  your  year's  residence  at  Paris,  all 
thoughts  of  all  that  dull  fellows  call  solid,  and  exert  your 
utmost  care  to  acquire  what  people  of  fashion  call  shining. 
Prenez  P eclat  et  le  brillant  (Tun  galant  homme. 

Among  the  commonly  called  little  things,  to  which  you 
do  not  attend,  your  handwriting  is  one,  which  is  indeed 
shamefully  bad  and  illiberal ;  it  is  neither  the  hand  of  a 
man  of  business,  nor  of  a  gentleman,  but  of  a  truant 
school-boy;  as  soon,  therefore,  as  you  have  done  with 
Abb6  Nolet,  pray  get  an  excellent  writing-master  (since  you 
think  that  you  cannot  teach  yourself  to  write  what  hand 
you  please),  and  let  him  teach  you  to  write  a  genteel, 
legible,  liberal  hand,  and  quick ;  not  the  hand  of  a  pro- 
cureur  or  a  writing-master,  but  that  sort  of  hand  in 
which  the  first  Commis  in  foreign  bureaus  commonly 
write ;  for  I  tell  you  truly,  that  were  I  Lord  Albemarle, 
nothing  should  remain  in  my  bureau  written  in  your 
present  hand.  From  hand  to  arms  the  transition  is  nat- 
ural ;  is  the  carriage  and  motion  of  your  arms  so  too  ? 
The  motion  of  the  arms  is  the  most  material  part  of  a 
man's  air,  especially  in  dancing;  the  feet  are  not  near  so 
material.  If  a  man  dances  well  from  the  waist  upward, 
wears  his  hat  well,  and  moves  his  head  properly,  he  dances 
well.  Do  the  women  say  that  you  dress  well?  for  that  is 
necessary  too  for  a  young  fellow.  Have  you  un  gout  vtf, 
or  a  passion  for  anybody  ?  I  do  not  ask  for  whom :  an 
Iphigenia  would  both  give  you  the  desire,  and  teach  you 
the  means  to  please. 

In  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  you  will  see  Sir  Charles 
Hotham  at  Paris,  in  his  way  to  Toulouse,  where  he  is  to 
stay  a  year  or  two.  Pray  be  very  civil  to  him,  but 
do  not  carry  him  into  company,  except  presenting  him  to 
Lord  Albemarle ;  for,  as  he  is  not  to  stay  at  Paris  above 
a  week,  we  do  not  desire  that  he  should  taste  of  that  dis- 
sipation :  you  may  show  him  a  play  and  an  opera.  Adieu, 
my  dear  child. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS   SON  397 


LETTER    CXXXVI 

LONDON,  March  25,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  What  a  happy  period  of  your  life 
is  this?  Pleasure  is  now,  and  ought  to  be,  your 
business.  While  you  were  younger,  dry  rules,  and 
unconnected  words,  were  the  unpleasant  objects  of  your 
labors.  When  you  grow  older,  the  anxiety,  the  vexations, 
the  disappointments  inseparable  from  public  business,  will 
require  the  greatest  share  of  your  time  and  attention ;  your 
pleasures  may,  indeed,  conduce  to  your  business,  and  your 
business  will  quicken  your  pleasures;  but  still  your  time 
must,  at  least,  be  divided:  whereas  now  it  is  wholly  your 
own,  and  cannot  be  so  well  employed  as  in  the  pleasures 
of  a  gentleman.  The  world  is  now  the  only  book  you 
want,  and  almost  the  only  one  you  ought  to  read :  that 
necessary  book  can  only  be  read  in  company,  in  public 
places,  at  meals,  and  in  ruelles.  You  must  be  in  the 
pleasures,  in  order  to  learn  the  manners  of  good  company. 
In  premeditated,  or  in  formal  business,  people  conceal,  or 
at  least  endeavor  to  conceal,  their  characters :  whereas 
pleasures  discover  them,  and  the  heart  breaks  out  through 
the  guard  of  the  understanding.  Those  are  often  propi- 
tious moments  for  skillful  negotiators  to  improve.  In  your 
destination  particularly,  the  able  conduct  of  pleasures  is  of 
infinite  use ,  to  keep  a  good  table,  and  to  do  the  honors 
of  it  gracefully,  and  sur  le  ton  de  la  bonne  compagnie,  is 
absolutely  necessary  for  a  foreign  minister.  There  is  a 
certain  light  table  chit-chat,  useful  to  keep  off  improper 
and  too  serious  subjects,  which  is  only  to  be  learned  in 
the  pleasures  of  good  company.  In  truth  it  may  be  tri- 
fling; but,  trifling  as  it  is,  a  man  of  parts  and  experience 
of  the  world  will  give  an  agreeable  turn  to  it.  L *  art  de 
badiner  agrtablement  is  by  no  means  to  be  despised. 

An  engaging  address,  and  turn  to  gallantry,  is  often  of 
very  great  service  to  foreign  ministers.  Women  have,  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  a  good  deal  to  say  in  most  courts.  The 
late  Lord  Strafford  governed,  for  a  considerable  time,  the 


398  LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S 

Court  of  Berlin  and  made  his  own  fortune,  by  being  well 
with  Madame  de  Wartenberg,  the  first  King  of  Prussia's 
mistress.  I  could  name  many  other  instances  of  that  kind. 
That  sort  of  agreeable  caquet  de  femmes,  the  necessary  fore- 
runners of  closer  conferences,  is  only  to  be  got  by  frequent- 
ing women  of  the  first  fashion,  et  qui  donnent  le  ton.  Let 
every  other  book  then  give  way  to  this  great  and  necessary 
book,  the  world,  of  which  there  are  so  many  various  readings, 
that  it  requires  a  great  deal  of  time  and  attention  to  under- 
stand it  well:  contrary  to  all  other  books,  you  must  not 
stay  home,  but  go  abroad  to  read  it ;  and  when  you  seek  it 
abroad,  you  will  not  find  it  in  booksellers'  shops  and  stalls^ 
but  in  courts,  in  kdtels,  at  entertainments,  balls,  assemblies, 
spectacles,  etc.  Put  yourself  upon  the  footing  of  an  easy, 
domestic,  but  polite  familiarity  and  intimacy  in  the  several 
French  houses  to  which  you  have  been  introduced.  Cultivate 
them,  frequent  them,  and  show  a  desire  of  becoming  enfant 
de  la  maison.  Get  acquainted  as  much  as  you  can  with. 
les  gens  de  cour;  and  observe,  carefully,  how  politely  they 
can  differ,  and  how  civilly  they  can  hate ;  how  easy  and 
idle  they  can  seem  in  the  multiplicity  of  their  business ;  and 
how  they  can  lay  hold  of  the  proper  moments  to  carry  it 
on,  in  the  midst  of  their  pleasures.  Courts,  alone,  teach 
versatility  and  politeness ;  for  there  is  no  living  there  with- 
out them.  Lord  Albermarle  has,  I  hear,  and  am  very  glad 
of  it,  put  you  into  the  hands  of  Messieurs  de  Bissy.  Profit 
of  that,  and  beg  of  them  to  let  you  attend  them  in  all  the 
companies  of  Versailles  and  Paris.  One  of  them,  at  least, 
will  naturally  carry  you  to  Madame  de  la  Valieres,  unless 
he  is  discarded  by  this  time,  and  Gelliot  *  retaken.  Tell 
them  frankly,  que  vous  cherchez  cl  vous  former,  que  vous 
etes  en  mains  de  maitres,  s^ils  veulent  bien  s' 'en  donner  la 
peine.  Your  profession  has  this  agreeable  peculiarity  in  it, 
which  is,  that  it  is  connected  with,  and  promoted  by 
pleasures;  and  it  is  the  only  one  in  which  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  world,  polite  manners,  and  an  engaging 
address,  are  absolutely  necessary.  If  a  lawyer  knows  his 
law,  a  parson  his  divinity,  and  a  financier  his  calculations, 
each  may  make  a  figure  and  a  fortune  in  his  profession, 
without  great  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  without  the 
*  A  famous  opera-singer  at  Paris. 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  399 

manners  of  gentlemen.  But  your  profession  throws  you  into 
all  the  intrigues  and  cabals,  as  well  as  pleasures,  of  courts: 
in  those  windings  and  labyrinths,  a  knowledge  of  the 
world,  a  discernment  of  characters,  a  suppleness  and  versa- 
tility of  mind,  and  an  elegance  of  manners,  must  be  your 
clue ;  you  must  know  how  to  soothe  and  lull  the  monsters 
that  guard,  and  how  to  address  and  gain  the  fair  that  keep, 
the  golden  fleece.  These  are  the  arts  and  the  accomplish- 
ments absolutely  necessary  for  a  foreign  minister ;  in  which 
it  must  be  owned,  to  our  shame,  that  most  other  nations 
outdo  the  English;  and,  cceteris  paribus,  a  French  minister 
will  get  the  better  of  an  English  one  at  any  third  court  in 
Europe.  The  French  have  something  more  liant,  more,  in- 
sinuating and  engaging  in  their  manner,  than  we  have.  An 
English  minister  shall  have  resided  seven  years  at  a  court, 
without  having  made  any  one  personal  connection  there,  or 
without  being  intimate  and  domestic  in  any  one  house. 
He  is  always  the  English  minister,  and  never  naturalized. 
He  receives  his  orders,  demands  an  audience,  writes  an 
account  of  it  to  his  Court,  and  his  business  is  done.  A 
French  minister,  on  the  contrary,  has  not  been  six  weeks 
at  a  court  without  having,  by  a  thousand  little  attentions, 
insinuated  himself  into  some  degree  of  favor  with  the 
Prince,  his  wife,  his  mistress,  his  favorite,  and  his  minister. 
He  has  established  himself  upon  a  familiar  and  domestic 
footing  in  a  dozen  of  the  best  houses  of  the  place,  where 
he  has  accustomed  the  people  to  be  not  only  easy,  but  un- 
guarded before  him;  he  makes  himself  at  home  there,  and 
they  think  him  so.  By  these  means  he  knows  the  interior 
of  those  courts,  and  can  almost  write  prophecies  to  his  own, 
from  the  knowledge  he  has  of  the  characters,  the  humors, 
the  abilities,  or  the  weaknesses  of  the  actors.  The  Cardinal 
d'Ossat  was  looked  upon  at  Rome  as  an  Italian,  and  not 
as  a  French  cardinal:  and  Monsieur  d'Avaux,  wherever  he 
went,  was  never  considered  as  a  foreign  minister,  but  as  a 
native,  and  a  personal  friend.  Mere  plain  truth,  sense,  and 
knowledge,  will  by  no  means  do  alone  in  courts ;  art  and 
ornaments  must  come  to  their  assistance.  Humors  must  be 
flattered ;  the  mollia  tempora  must  be  studied  and  known : 
confidence  acquired  by  seeming  frankness,  and  profited  of 
by  silent  skill.  And,  above  all,  you  must  gain  and  engage 


400  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

the  heart,  to    betray  the    understanding    to    you.      Hce    tibi 
erunt  artes. 

The  death  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  was  more  beloved 
for  his  affability  and  good-nature  than  esteemed  for  his 
steadiness  and  conduct,  has  given  concern  to  many,  and 
apprehensions  to  all.  The  great  difference  of  the  ages  of 
the  King  and  Prince  George  presents  the  prospect  of  a 
minority;  a  disagreeable  prospect  for  any  nation!  But  it  is 
to  be  hoped,  and  is  most  probable,  that  the  King,  who  is 
now  perfectly  recovered  of  his  late  indisposition,  may  live 
to  see  his  grandson  of  age.  He  is,  seriously,  a  most  hope- 
ful boy:  gentle  and  good-natured,  with  good  sound  sense. 
This  event  has  made  all  sorts  of  people  here  historians,  as 
well  as  politicians.  Our  histories  are  rummaged  for  all  the 
particular  circumstances  of  the  six  minorities  we  have  had 
since  the  Conquest,  viz,  those  of  Henry  III.,  Edward  III., 
Richard  II.,  Henry  VI.,  Edward  V.,  and  Edward  VI.;  and 
the  reasonings,  the  speculations,  the  conjectures,  and  the 
predictions,  you  will  easily  imagine,  must  be  innumerable 
and  endless,  in  this  nation,  where  every  porter  is  a  con- 
summate politician.  Dr.  Swift  says,  very  humorously,  that 
*  Every  man  knows  that  he  understands  religion  and  politics, 
though  he  never  learned  them ;  but  that  many  people  are 
conscious  that  they  do  not  understand  many  other  sciences, 
from  having  never  learned  them.*  Adieu. 


LETTER   CXXXVI1 

LONDON,   April  7,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  Here  you  have,  altogether,  the  pocket- 
books,  the  compasses,  and  the  patterns.     When  your 
three  Graces  have  made  their    option,  you  need  only 
send  me,  in  a  letter  small  pieces  of    the  three  mohairs  they 
fix  upon.       If  I    can  find    no  way  of   sending    them    safely 
and    directly  to    Paris,  I    will    contrive    to    have    them    left 
with  Madame  Morel,  at  Calais,   who,  being   Madame   Mon- 
conseil's  agent  there,  may  find  means  of  furthering  them  to 
your  three  ladies,  who  all  belong    to    your    friend    Madame 
Monconseil.     Two  of    the  three,  I  am  told,  are    handsome ; 


LETTERS   TO   HIS  SON  401 

Madame  Polignac,  I  can  swear,  is  'not  so ;  but,  however,  as 
the  world  goes,  two  out  of  three  is  a  very  good  composition. 
You  will  also  find  in  the  packet  a  compass  ring  set 
round  with  little  diamonds,  which  I  advise  you  to  make  a 
present  of  to  Abb£  Guasco,  who  has  been  useful  to  you, 
and  will  continue  to  be  so ;  as  it  is  a  mere  bauble,  you  must 
add  to  the  value  of  it  by  your  manner  of  giving  it  him. 
Show  it  him  first,  and,  when  he  commends  it,  as  probably 
he  will,  tell  him  that  it  is  at  his  service,  et  que  comme  il 
est  toujours  par  -vote  et  par  chemins,  tl  est  absolument 
necessaire  qtSil  aie  une  boussole.  All  those  little  gallantries 
depend  entirely  upon  the  manner  of  doing  them;  as,  in 
truth,  what  does  not?  The  greatest  favors  may  be  done  so 
awkwardly  and  bunglingly  as  to  offend ;  and  disagreeable 
things  may  be  done  so  agreeably  as  almost  to  oblige.  En- 
deavor to  acquire  this  great  secret ;  it  exists,  it  is  to  be 
found,  and  is  worth  a  great  deal  more  than  the  grand  secret 
of  the  alchemists  would  be  if  it  were,  as  it  is  not,  to  be 
found.  This  is  only  to  be  learned  in  courts,  where  clashing 
views,  jarring  opinions,  arid  cordial  hatreds,  are  softened 
and  kept  within  decent  bounds  by  politeness  and  manners. 
Frequent,  observe,  and  learn  courts.  Are  you  free  of  that 
of  St.  Cloud?  Are  you  often  at  Versailles?  Insinuate  and 
wriggle  yourself  into  favor  at  those  places.  L'Abbe  de  la 
Ville,  my  old  friend,  will  help  you  at  the  latter ;  your  three 
ladies  may  establish  you  in  tne  former.  The  good-breeding 
de  la  vllle  et  de  la  cour  are  different;  but  without  deciding 
which  is  intrinsically  the  best,  that  of  the  court  is,  without 
doubt,  the  most  necessary  for  you,  who  are  to  live,  to  grow, 
and  to  rise  in  courts.  In  two  years'  time,  which  will  be  as 
soon  as  you  are  fit  for  it,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  plant  you  in 
the  soil  of  a  YOUNG  COURT  here:  where,  if  you  have  all  the 
address,  the  suppleness  and  versatility  of  a  good  courtier, 
you  will  have  a  great  chance  of  thriving  and  flourishing. 
Young  favor  is  easily  acquired  if  the  proper  means  are 
employed;  and,  when  acquired,  it  is  warm,  if  not  durable; 
and  the  warm  moments  must  be  snatched  and  improved. 
Quitte  pour  ce  qui  en  peut  arriver  aprbs.  Do  not  men- 
tion this  view  of  mine  for  you  to  any  one  mortal;  but 
learn  to  keep  your  own  secrets,  which,  by  the  way,  very 
few  people  can  do. 
26 


402  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

If  your  course  of  experimental  philosophy  with  Abbe 
Nolet  is  over,  I  would  have  you  apply  to  Abb6  Sallier, 
for  a  master  to  give  you  a  general  notion  of  astronomy  and 
geometry ;  of  both  of  which  you  may  know  as  much,  as  I 
desire  you  should,  in  six  months'  time.  I  only  desire  that 
you  should  have  a  clear  notion  of  the  present  planetary 
system,  and  the  history  of  all  the  former  systems.  Fonte- 
nelle's  Pluralites  des  Mondes  will  almost  teach  you  all  you 
need  know  upon  that  subject.  As  for  geometry,  the  seven 
first  books  of  Euclid  will  be  a  sufficient  portion  of  it  for 
you.  It  is  right  to  have  a  general  notion  of  those  abstruse 
sciences,  so  as  not  to  appear  quite  ignorant  of  them,  when 
they  happen,  as  sometimes  they  do,  to  be  the  topics  of 
conversation ;  but  a  deep  knowledge  of  them  requires  too 
much  time,  and  engrosses  the  mind  too  much.  I  repeat  it 
again  and  again  to  you,  Let  the  great  book  of  the  world 
be  your  principal  study.  Nocturnd  versate  manu,  versate 
diurnd ;  which  may  be  rendered  thus  in  English:  Turn 
over  MEN  BY  DAY,  AND  WOMEN  BY  NIGHT.  I  mean  only 
the  best  editions. 

Whatever  may  be  said  at  Paris  of  my  speech  upon  the 
bill  for  the  reformation  of  the  present  calendar,  or  what- 
ever applause  it  may  have  met  with  here,  the  whole,  I  can 
assure  you,  is  owing  to  the  words  and  to  the  delivery,  but 
by  no  means  to  the  matter  ;  which,  as  I  told  you  in  a 
former  letter,  I  was  not  master  of.  I  mention  this  again, 
to  show  you  the  importance  of  well-chosen  words,  harmon- 
ious periods,  and  good  delivery ;  for,  between  you  and  me, 
Lord  Macclefield's  speech  was,  in  truth,  worth  a  thousand 
of  mine.  It  will  soon  be  printed,  and  I  will  send  it  you. 
It  is  very  instructive.  You  say,  that  you  wish  to  speak 
but  half  as  well  as  I  did  ;  you  may  easily  speak  full  as 
well  as  ever  I  did,  if  you  will  but  give  the  same  attention 
to  the  same  objects  that  I  did  at  your  age,  and  for  many 
years  afterward ;  I  mean  correctness,  purity,  and  elegance 
of  style,  harmony  of  periods,  and  gracefulness  of  delivery. 
Read  over  and  over  again  the  third  book  of  Cicero  de  Ora- 
tore,  in  which  he  particularly  treats  of  the  ornamental  parts 
of  oratory  ;  they  are  indeed  properly  oratory,  for  all  the 
rest  depends  only  upon  common  sense,  and  some  knowledge 
of  the  subject  you  speak  upon.  But  if  you  would  please, 


LETTERS  TO   HIS  SON  403 

persuade,  and  prevail  in  speaking,  it  must  be  by  the  ornamen- 
tal parts  of  oratory.  Make  them  therefore  habitual  to  you; 
and  resolve  never  to  say  the  most  common  things,  even  to 
your  footman,  but  in  the  best  words  you  can  find,  and 
wifh  the  best  utterance.  This,  with  les  manieres,  la  tour- 
nure,  et  les  usages  du  beau  monde,  are  the  only  two  things 
you  want ;  fortunately,  they  are  both  in  your  power ;  may 
you  have  them  both  !  Adieu. 


LETTER   CXXXVIII 

LONDON,  April  15,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  What  success  with  the  graces,  and  in 
the  accomplishments,  elegancies,  and  all  those  little 
nothings  so  indispensably  necessary  to  constitute  an 
amiable  man?  Do  you  take  them,  do  you  make  a  progress  in 
them?  The  great  secret  is  the  art  of  pleasing  ;  and  that 
art  is  to  be  attained  by  every  man  who  has  a  good  fund 
of  common  sense.  If  you  are  pleased  with  any  person, 
examine  why ;  do  as  he  does ;  and  you  will  charm  others 
by  the  same  things  which  please  you  in  him.  To  be  liked 
by  women,  you  must  be  esteemed  by  men  ;  and  to  please 
men,  you  must  be  agreeable  to  women.  Vanity  is  un- 
questionably the  ruling  passion  in  women  ;  and  it  is  much 
flattered  by  the  attentions  of  a  man  who  is  generally  es- 
teemed by  men ;  when  his  merit  has  received  the  stamp  of 
their  approbation,  women  make  it  current,  that  is  to  say, 
put  him  in  fashion.  On  the  other  hand,  if  a  man  has  not 
received  the  last  polish  from  women,  he  may  be  estimable 
among  men,  but  will  never  be  amiable.  The  concurrence 
of  the  two  sexes  is  as  necessary  to  the  perfection  of  our 
being,  as  to  the  formation  of  it.  Go  among  women  with 
the  good  qualities  of  your  sex,  and  you  will  acquire  from 
them  the  softness  and  the  graces  of  theirs.  Men  will  then 
add  affection  to  the  esteem  which  they  before  had  for  you. 
Women  are  the  only  refiners  of  the  merit  of  men ;  it  is 
true,  they  cannot  add  weight,  but  they  polish  and  give  lus- 
tre to  it.  A  propos,  I  am  assured,  that  Madame  de  Blot, 
although  she  has  no  great  regularity  of  features,  is,  not- 


404  LORD   CHESTERFIELD'S 

withstanding,  excessively  pretty ;  and  that,  for  all  that,  she 
has  as  yet  been  scrupulously  constant  to  her  husband, 
though  she  has  now  been  married  above  a  year.  Surely 
she  does  not  reflect,  that  woman  wants  polishing.  I  would 
have  you  polish  one  another  reciprocally.  Force,  assiduities, 
attentions,  tender  looks,  and  passionate  declarations,  on 
your  side  will  produce  some  irresolute  wishes,  at  least, 
on  hers ;  and  when  even  the  slightest  wishes  arise,  the  rest 
will  soon  follow. 

As  I  take  you  to  be  the  greatest  juris  peritus  and  poli- 
tician of  the  whole  Germanic  body,  I  suppose  you  will  have 
read  the  King  of  Prussia's  letter  to  the  Elector  of  Mayence, 
upon  the  election  of  a  King  of  the  Romans;  and  on  the 
other  side,  a  memorial  entitled,  IMPARTIAL  REPRESENTA- 
TION OF  WHAT  IS  JUST  WITH  REGARD  TO  THE  ELECTION 

OF  A  KING  OF  THE  ROMANS,  etc.  The  first  is  extremely 
well  written,  but  not  grounded  upon  the  laws  and  customs 
of  the  empire.  The  second  is  very  ill  written  (at  least  in 
French),  but  well  grounded.  I  fancy  the  author  is  some 
German,  who  has  taken  into  his  head  that  he  understands 
French.  I  am,  however,  persuaded  that  the  elegance  and 
delicacy  of  the  King  of  Prussia's  letter  will  prevail  with 
two-thirds  of  the  public,  in  spite  of  the  solidity  and  truth 
contained  in  the  other  piece.  Such  is  the  force  of  an 
elegant  and  delicate  style! 

I  wish  you  would  be  so  good  as  to  give  me  a  more  particu- 
lar and  circumstantial  account  of  the  method  of  passing. your 
time  at  Paris.  For  instance,  where  it  is  that  you  dine  every 
Friday,  in  company  with  that  amiable  and  respectable  old  man, 
Fontenelle?  Which  is  the  house  where  you  think  yourself 
at  home?  For  one  always  has  such  a  one,  where  one  is  bet- 
ter established,  and  more  at  ease  than  anywhere  else.  Who 
are  the  young  Frenchmen  with  whom  you  are  most  inti- 
mately connected?  Do  you  frequent  the  Dutch  Ambassa- 
dor's. Have  you  penetrated  yet  into  Count  Caunitz's  house? 
Has  Monsieur  de  Pignatelli  the  honor  of  being  one  of  your 
humble  servants?  And  has  the  Pope's  nuncio  included 
you  in  the  Jubilee?  Tell  me  also  freely  how  you  are  with 
Lord  Huntingdon  :  Do  you  see  him  often?  Do  you  con- 
nect yourself  with  him?  Answer  all  these  questions  cir- 
cumstantially in  your  first  letter. 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON  405 

I  am  told  that  Du  Clos's  book  is  not  in  vogue  at  Paris, 
and  that  it  is  violently  criticised  :  I  suppose  that  is  because 
one  understands  it ;  and  being  intelligible  is  now  no  longer 
the  fashion.  I  have  a  very  great  respect  for  fashion,  but  a 
much  greater  for  this  book  ;  which  is,  all  at  once,  true, 
solid,  and  bright.  It  contains  even  epigrams  ;  what  can  one 
wish  for  more? 

Mr. will,  I  suppose,  have  left  Paris  by  this  time 

for  his  residence  at  Toulouse.  I  hope  he  will  acquire  man- 
ners there ;  I  am  sure  he  wants  them.  He  is  awkward,  he 
is  silent,  and  has  nothing  agreeable  in  his  address, —  most 
necessary  qualifications  to  distinguish  one's  self  in  business, 
as  well  as  in  the  POLITE  WORLD  !  In  truth,  these  two 
things  are  so  connected,  that  a  man  cannot  make  a  figure 
in  business,  who  is  not  qualified  to  shine  in  the  great 
world ;  and  to  succeed  perfectly  in  either  the  one  or  the 
other,  one  must  be  in  utrumque  paratus.  May  you  be  that, 
my  dear  friend !  and  so  we  wish  you  a  good  night. 

P.  S.  Lord  and  Lady  Blessington,  with  their  son  Lord 
Mountjoy,  will  be  at  Paris  next  week,  in  their  way  to  the 
south  of  France ;  I  send  you  a  little  packet  of  books  by 
them.  Pray  go  wait  upon  them,  as  soon  as  you  hear  of 
their  arrival,  and  show  them  all  the  attentions  you  can. 


LETTER    CXXXIX 

LONDON,  April  22,  O.  S.  1751. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:    I  apply  to  you  now,  as  to  the  great- 
est virtuoso  of  this,  or  perhaps    any   other    age;  one 
whose     superior    judgment     and     distinguishing    eye 
hindered  the  King  of  Poland  from  buying  a  bad  picture  at 
Venice,  and  whose  decisions  in  the  realms  of  virth  are  final, 
and    without    appeal.       Now  to    the   point.     I    have    had    a 
catalogue  sent  me,   (Tune    Vente  a  V aimable  de  Tableaux  des 
plus  Grands  Maitres,  appartenans  au  Sieur  Araignon  Aperen, 
valet  de  chambre  de  la  Reine,  sur  le  guai  de  la  Mtgisserie, 
au    coin    de   P  Arche   Marion.      There  I  observe    two    large 


406  LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S 

pictures  of  Titian,  as  described  in  the  inclosed  page  of  the 
catalogue,  No.  18,  which  I  should  be  glad  to  purchase 
upon  two  conditions :  the  first  is,  that  they  be  undoubted 
originals  of  Titian,  in  good  preservation ;  and  the  other 
that  they  come  cheap.  To  ascertain  the  first  (but  without 
disparaging  your  skill),  I  wish  you  would  get  some  un- 
doubted connoisseurs  to  examine  them  carefully  :  and  if, 
upon  such  critical  examination,  they  should  be  unanimously 
allowed  to  be  undisputed  originals  of  Titian,  and  well  pre- 
served, then  comes  the  second  point,  the  price  :  I  will  not 
go  above  two  hundred  pounds  sterling  for  the  two  together ; 
but  as  much  less  as  you  can  get  them  for.  I  acknowledge 
that  two  hundred  pounds  seems  to  be  a  very  small  sum  for 
two  undoubted  Titians  of  that  size ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
as  large  Italian  pictures  are  now  out  of  fashion  at  Paris, 
where  fashion  decides  of  everything,  and  as  these  pictures 
are  too  large  for  common  rooms,  they  may  possibly  come 
within  the  price  above  limited.  I  leave  the  whole  of  this 
transaction  (the  price  excepted,  which  I  will  not  exceed) 
to  your  consummate  skill  and  prudence,  with  proper  advice 
joined  to  them.  Should  you  happen  to  buy  them  for  that 
price,  carry  them  to  your  own  lodgings,  and  get  a  frame 
made  to  the  second,  which  I  observe  has  none,  exactly  the 
same  with  the  other  frame,  and  have  the  old  one  new 
gilt ;  and  then  get  them  carefully  packed  up,  and  sent  me 
by  Rouen. 

I  hear  much  of  your  conversing  with  les  beaux  esfrits  at 
Paris  :  I  am  very  glad  of  it ;  it  gives  a  degree  of  reputa- 
tion, especially  at  Paris ;  and  their  conversation  is  generally 
instructive,  though  sometimes  affected.  It  must  be  owned, 
that  the  polite  conversation  of  the  men  and  women  of 
fashion  at  Paris,  though  not  always  very  deep,  is  much  less 
futile  and  frivolous  than  ours  here.  It  turns  at  least  upon 
some  subject,  something  of  taste,  some  point  of  history, 
criticism,  and  even  philosophy;  which,  though  probably  not 
quite  so  solid  as  Mr.  Locke's,  is,  however,  better,  and  more 
becoming  rational  beings,  than  our  frivolous  dissertations 
upon  the  weather,  or  upon  whist.  Monsieur  du  Clos  ob- 
serves, and  I  think  very  justly,  qu'il  y  a  d,  present  en  France 
une  fermentation  universelle  de  la  raison  qui  tend  &  se 
dfoelopfer.  Whereas,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  here  that  fer- 


LETTERS  TO    HIS   SON  407 

mentation  seems  to  have  been  over  some  years  ago,  the 
spirit  evaporated,  and  only  the  dregs  left.  Moreover,  les 
beaux  esprits  at  Paris  are  commonly  well-bred,  which  ours 
very  frequently  are  not  ;  with  the  former  your  manners  will 
be  formed;  with  the  latter,  wit  must  generally  be  com- 
pounded for  at  the  expense  of  manners.  Are  you  acquainted 
with  Marivaux,  who  has  certainly  studied,  and  is  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  heart ;  but  who  refines  so  much  upon  its 
plis  et  replis,  and  describes  them  so  affectedly,  that  he 
often  is  unintelligible  to  his  readers,  and  sometimes  so,  I 
dare  say,  to  himself?  Do  you  know  Crebillon  le  Jlls? 
He  is  a  fine  painter  and  a  pleasing  writer ;  his  characters 
are  admirable  and  his  reflections  just.  Frequent  these  peo- 
ple, and  be  glad,  but  not  proud  of  frequenting  them  : 
never  boast  of  it,  as  a  proof  of  your  own  merit,  nor  insult, 
in  a  manner,  other  companies  by  telling  them  affectedly 
what  you,  Montesquieu  and  Fontenelle  were  talking  of 
the  other  day ;  as  I  have  known  many  people  do  here,  with 
regard  to  Pope  and  Swift,  who  had  never  been  twice  in 
company  with  either ;  nor  carry  into  other  companies  the 
ton  of  those  meetings  of  beaux  esprits.  Talk  literature, 
taste,  philosophy,  etc.,  with  them,  d,  la  bonne  heure;  but 
then,  with  the  same  ease,  and  more  enjouement,  talk  pom- 
pons, moires,  etc.,  with  Madame  de  Blot,  if  she  requires 
it.  Almost  every  subject  in  the  world  has  its  proper  time 
and  place;  in  which  no  one  is  above  or  below  discussion. 
The  point  is,  to  talk  well  upon  the  subject  you  talk  upon ; 
and  the  most  trifling,  frivolous  subjects  will  still  give  a 
man  of  parts  an  opportunity  of  showing  them.  L'usage 
du  grand  monde  can  alone  teach  that.  That  was  the  dis- 
tinguishing characteristic  of  Alcibiades,  and  a  happy  one 
it  was,  that  he  could  occasionally,  and  with  so  much  ease, 
adopt  the  most  different,  and  even  the  most  opposite  habits 
and  manners,  that  each  seemed  natural  to  him.  Prepare 
yourself  for  the  great  world,  as  the  athletes  used  to  do  for 
their  exercises  :  oil  (if  I  may  use  that  expression)  your 
mind  and  your  manners,  to  give  them  the  necessary  supple- 
ness and  flexibility ;  strength  alone  will  not  do,  as  young 
people  are  too  apt  to  think. 

How  do  your  exercises  go  on  ?  Can  you  manage  a  pretty  vig- 
orous sauteur  between  the  pillars  ?     Are  you  got  into  stirrups 


408     LORD  CHESTERFIELD'S  LETTERS  TO  HIS  SON 

yet?  faites-vous  assaut  aux  armes?  But,  above  all,  what  does 
Marcel  say  of  you  ?  Is  he  satisfied  ?  Pray  be  more  partic- 
ular in  your  accounts  of  yourself,  for  though  I  have  frequent 
accounts  of  you  from  others,  I  desire  to  have  your  own  too. 
Adieu.  Yours,  truly  and  friendly. 


END    OF    VOL.     I. 


B  I 


1901 
v.  / 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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RET'D  APR  19 19901 

GHCCMED  m  APR  19  '90  1  5 


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